Psyched
by SonOfASnitch
Summary: When Special Agent Roy Anderson's family's safety is threatened by a gang of killers, (as predicted by his young psychic protege Kurt Hummel) he sends Kurt, undercover, to Dalton to secretly keep an eye on his son Blaine. Can Kurt keep his head and solve the case, or will he succum to the undeniable chemistry between him and his boss's son?
1. Knowing

My phone buzzed, vibrating on the corner of my desk and taunting me with its threat to fall. No, I didn't really want to pick it up but I knew I had to.

Let me tell you something about knowing. Knowing is different from thinking. Thinking is just a guess but when you know, you know. There really isn't much room for argument, just interpretation but even that is rather limited. Knowing is common. Well, at least it should be; in today's society its beginning to look doubtful. But knowing is a normal thing. We all know something. I snatched the phone and slid my finger across the screen to answer the unwanted call. I gave the rhetorical 'hello?' and simply waited. What sets people apart- people like me- is knowing something I shouldn't know. Now for you, that may be just over hearing a secret about something and trying to make sure someone doesn't realize you know. But what makes me different is knowing something I shouldn't and not being able to explain how I came to know it.

Does your head hurt yet? Mine certainly does.

"Kurt," Roy's voice came through the speaker of my phone. I placed my pen back on my notebook and slump back in my chair , "We have a new case."

It sounds stupid when I say it, I know it does, but there's really no better title for it.

The fact of the matter is, I'm psychic.

"I know." I muttered remembering the dream I'd had that caused me to wake up this early.

"Right. I called McKinley, you're don't have to go in. " He informed in his normal serious tone.

"Because you want me at the crime scene?" I assumed.

"I'll be outside in ten minutes." He said, "Bring your badge."

He hung up without another word.

I sighed, running my hands through my bedhead. I stared down at my notebook that had everything Roy would want written across its pages.

I tossed it in my messenger bag, and shoved my badge in my pocket. After smoothing some gel in my hair, I slumped my way down stairs. Dad was up now, and having his coffee. Carole was probably still sleeping off her night shift at the hospital, and Finn never woke up until two minutes before he had to leave.

"Morning." My voice was still kind of rough and laden in tired grief.

"Well, Roy will be here in a few minutes if that's any indication." I sighed, grabbing myself a mug out of the cupboard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad bite his lip. He didn't like this. He kind of hated, in fact- the way it affected me. He used to ask me what I saw, but he quickly learned that he really didn't want to know. I stopped telling him, if only to save him from the nightmares.

"I don't think you're getting enough sleep." He unfolded his paper nonchalantly. Here we go again.

"I know I'm not getting enough sleep, but what can I do?" I poured my cup.

"Actually," He lowered the paper down to look at me as I took a seat next to him, "I was talking to Dr. Shephard. He said that it may be a good idea to put you on a sleep aid."

"No." I shut him down.

"Kurt-" He tried to reason but we'd been over this before.

"I'm helping people, Dad. I don't need to medicated." I poured a Splenda in my cup.

"This isn't about people Kurt, this is about you." He dropped his paper completely and leaned forward.

"And what good would drugging me do? Keep me from waking up? Keep me trapped in mind with no escape? Does that sound better? Jesus, Dad, you know what these dreams are like. Between not being able to sleep and being terrified to close my eyes, I think I'd rather deal with the occasional sleepless night." I argued, stirring my coffee with a spoon. This 'discussion' came up at least once a month. The visions I had always tended to get more intense when I was stressed. The nightmares got worse, and the crime scenes... well the crime scenes were unbearable. 'Murder' some might say if it weren't such an inappropriate term.

My dad loved me. I had no doubt about him, but underneath all of his acceptance there was fear. Dad was afraid of me and what I was capable of. He was almost a terrified as I was.

"Kurt..." Dad sighed, lifting his hat off his head and swiping his hand across his scalp.

"I'm," I clattered the spoon against the table, "I'm sorry. I'm just a little on edge."

"Probably from not sleeping enough..." He grumbled.

"Dad-" I almost started again, but my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I knew it was Roy telling me he was outside, "That's Roy. I gotta go."

I stood up and gathered my things.

"Call and let me know you're alright." Dad returned to his coffee.

"Yeah." I nodded soberly, "I love you."

I pulled the revolver out of my bag and secured it in the holster on my hip.

"Love you too, Kiddo." He answered as I headed out the door and barely had a chance to add "Stay safe." before I was gone.

"I know." I sighed heavily before heading to Roy's sleek black Mercedes.

* * *

_So, I've really been wanting to write a SecretAgent!Kurt and a Psychic!Kurt fic, so I decided to combine the two :) I'm just putting this 'prologue' thing up to see how many people would be interested in the rest of the story. Please review!_

_~Holleigh_


	2. Seeing Things

"Morning, Sunshine." Roy deadpanned as I swung open the passenger door and got in.

"Roy," I retorted, "I almost didn't recognize you. Wait, let me guess... New stick up your ass?"

"Charming." He put the car in gear and began to drive. I huffed, resting my head back. I was frustrated- not at Roy (yet) but with myself. After last night, and this morning, I wasn't even remotely prepared to deal with people. I wanted nothing more that to crawl back in bed and try again later, but there was no way that could happen.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled. Roy carefully took his eyes off the road and tossed a worried glance my way.

"You alright?" He actually sounded sincere. Roy wasn't so much the asshole I made him out to be, but we had a comfortable animosity neither of us would make any move to change. Roy was a family man. He was dedicated to his job, but everyone at the bureau knew that his family came first. Roy was a good guy.

"This case is gonna suck." I excused.

"Every case we work on sucks, Kid." He reminded, "What else happened?"

I rolled my head to look out the window at the familiar scenery passing us by.

"My dad started on the 'medication' thing again," I admitted.

Roy simply nodded watching the road. He knew this was a recurrence. He knew, probably even better than Dad how the visions affected me, and he was on my side in the matter..

"Did you ever maybe he has a point?" Or at least I thought he was.

"What do you-?"

"Maybe a specialist wouldn't be the worst thing to try." He shrugged.

"Right." I eyed him carefully, "Right because a psychiatrist is definitely going to prescribe pills to help me sleep instead of antipsychotic that'll take care of the schizophrenia they'll diagnose me with after I tell them that I can't get a good night's sleep because I'm having disturbing psychic visions!"

"Points can be made just as easily without the sass." He cooled, "And I didn't mean a psychiatrist, just- I don't know, someone who can help or you talk to about these things."

"Talking doesn't help." I groaned, pulling my notebook out, "I could talk till my face is blue and no one would have the slightest idea about what it's like, or how it feels." I flipped through the countless pages of sketches and broken sentences and details that covered the pages, "They don't know what it's like. To be honest, you're the closest thing I have to someone that does."

I turned another page, "I don't need drugs. I need a distraction."

I finally came to the page I'd been scribbling on through the morning.

"It's girl." I began knowing Roy wouldn't continue with the discussion if I dove into work.

"Her name is Sandra Gullin. Reported missing two days ago after having spent the night at a bar in Columbus." He listed off, remembering what he'd read from the case file. I shut my eyes and there she was, clear as day staring at me. Her hollowed thinning face covered by her frizzy pale blonde hair. She would fade, though, like the others did. She was only a memory now- a memory of a nightmare. Sandra Gullin was dead. I know because I died with her last night.

Well, not died- dead- died but in my dreams, I tend to victims. I liked to think that when it happens, they didn't have to experience it, but I wasn't sure that was true. I could feel their fear. I could feel their pain. I could hear their thoughts. I knew they were aware of what was going on. I knew they were there. And then I knew when they were gone.

"Where did you find her body?" I opened my eyes.

"On the side of Highland Avenue, by the woods." He focused on driving, "Why? Where were you?"

"It was a warehouse. Abandoned. We were chained to support beam." I sighed, "There were voices, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. They hit us in the head and then things got hazy. She was crying and it hurt a lot. And then..." I shook my head reading my notes and recalling the visions, "They slit our throat."

Roy breathed in sharply, trying not to cringe.

"They dragged her body away by a rope before she was even dead." I said quietly, "I'm doubting they bothered cleaning it up. There should still be blood stains."

Roy nodded and reached for his cell phone. He hit his speed dial and held it up to his ear.

"Fischer, I need you to get a list of all warehouses in the radius of the crime scene not longer maintained or functioning." He ordered icily, waited for a response, then hung up. I always hated it when he hung up without warning , but that's just the kind of guy Roy was. Keep people around until they aren't useful anymore. It was easy to see how some people would label him as cold and calculated.

"How far away is this place?" I stared out the window at they boring and uneventful highway. Roy tossed a glance to me then suddenly slammed on the breaks... hard. The seat belt dug into my chest, and hit my head against the back of the seat from the whiplash.

"Ow!" I rubbed the back of my head, "What the hell, Anderson?"

"We're here." He mocked with a smile, and unlocked his seatbelt. I groaned externally. Me having a bad day, not so bad. Roy having a bad day, a little worse. Me and Roy having, hide your kids, hide your wife. These days never went well.

I got out of the car and pulled out my badge, knowing some of the officers would wonder why there was a kid at a crime scene. I followed Roy, and yawned as I listened to him jabber on. I simply held my badge up for the officers to see because I really didn't feel like dealing with their questions.

There was a flash of light, and that's when I saw her. Mangled beyond recognition was Sandra Gullin. Her frizzy light blonde hair was now caked in blood and covering what was left of her face. My hand drifted to my throat when I caught sight of her's. It was cut open like a ziplock bag and I cringed, remembering the sensation.

"The BAU thinks it was personal." Roy said, coming up behind me. He knew I wasn't really good at handling these kinds of scenes alone, especially after I'd partly been there. The first scene I'd been at, I passed out. the second one wasn't much better. I'd been doing this for a while but certain sights still made stomach turn. Unlike Roy 'Stonewall' Anderson. Roy, who I was pretty certain could have perfectly lovely brunch at one of these scenes, he was so indifferent. You could ask anyone who worked with him- Special Agent Roy Anderson was fearless.

"She wasn't raped." I told him, "It wasn't a sexual thing." I knelt down by her body and reached my hand out over her face, but Roy caught my wrist.

"What are you doing?" He stopped me.

"I'm closing her eyes." I glared at him.

"You can't disturb the body." God, I must have hear him say that about a thousand times before.

"You're right, Anderson. Her body is beaten and mangled and her throat's cut so far open, I'm pretty sure you could tell if she was a mezzo soprano, but you're right- shutting her eyes to give her remains some sense of peace would ruin everything." I snarked. Roy simply stared me in the eyes for a moment.

"You're not connected to her anymore. She's dead. You're alive. She's a victim. You're an agent." I hated it when he was right. Roy knew better than anyone that after living the nightmares in the consciousness of the people I try to save, I get connected. I get attached and it feel more like I'm saving a piece of myself... or avenging part of my own death. That must sound absolutely crazy, right? Right.

I looked him in the eyes, and was about to respond when my heart stopped.

I should probably tell you, different types of visions feel different. To my knowledge, there were 3 types.

There were "dream consciousness" which happens when I fall asleep- during the day or night- and I somehow can get linked into someone's existence and exist with them- as them- when thing happen. Those were like what happened to Sandra. I would live as them, feel their emotions and their pain, but not control anything. I was trapped and all I could do was absorb what I saw and hoped that I would wake up soon. Sometimes, based on what I experienced, I could write down what saw, or sketch it and call Roy and we could save them. But sometimes, like today, I woke up knowing it was over. There would be no one to save.

There were future flashes or as Finn likes to call them, my 'So Raven' flashes, where I can see vignettes of what is going to happen. And before you start asking- no, I don't use them to my personal advantage. I can't. I don't ever have flashes about what will happen to me, only to others whom I can help. Most of the time, I don't even know them. That was what was happening now- my heart stops, my eye glaz, I get goosebumps, and my hands shake. Then... well, its sort of like when you close your eyes to got to sleep and it takes awhile for your eyes to adjust, but then things become clearer. What I saw now was a boy- about my age. He had olive skin, and messy black hair. He looked terrified, staring at a familiar looking man with a gun. I couldn't make out what he was saying, only that he was crying and shaking his head. Another man, who had another gun was laughing at him. As the vision became clearer, I saw that the boy was clearly outnumbered by the gang of men with guns.

"-to tell your daddy that we're even." The man's voice rang and echoed like a hazed dream.

"Please... don't," The boy sobbed and begged, "No..." The vision started to fade.

"Kid."

"Please-"

"Kid."

"Not-"

"Kurt!"

Bang.

"Kurt!" Roy yelled and shook me, snapping me out of my vision. I hated when Roy did that. If someone from the outside tries to pull you out too soon, their voice can mesh to sound like one of the people in the vision. They boy, to my relief, wasn't shouting my name and calling me to save him. That had been Roy. The gunshot though... that had been real.

Somewhere, sometime, a boy was going to be shot, and no one would be there to save him.

"You were shaking." Roy said, letting go of my wrist and bringing his hand to my shoulder.

"I always shake." I shrugged his hand away, holding a grudge. I need to know who the boy was- his name. I need to know what happened or if I could save him. I need more time and Roy had pulled me out too soon.

"Your whole body was shaking. What did you see? Was it someone you knew?" He whispered, looking around to make sure none of the other officers were paying attention.

"No," I bit my lip and shook my head, "It felt like I did, but I don't know him."

Roy nodded, "What happened?"

I stood up, leading Roy away from the remains of Sandra Gullin, "There was this... gang of guys. The were gonna shoot this poor kid." I scratched the back of my head, "Well no, they did shoot. I just... I didn't see if he died or not."

"And you don't know him?" Roy pried.

"No," I snapped, "I told you, I don't." But I wanted to.

"What else? Anything we can do to keep it from happening? Give me something. Anything." He pushed. I sighed, frustrated trying to remember.

"Uh.. They... Someone said something about the kid's dad, and how this was getting even or something. I didn't catch all of it."

"Gangs and payback. Well that narrows down the search." Roy criticized.

"Hey," I defended, 'It's not my fault you-"

"We'll keep an eye out for kidnapping and missing kids." He waved me off, heading back to the car.

"He wasn't a kid. He was a teenager. My age." I corrected, jogging to follow Roy.

"Alright then, we'll go back to the office. You can work on a rough sketch of what the kid looked like, alright?" He climbed in the car, expecting me to do the same.

"Fine." I opened the door, and we drove back to the station in silence. But I couldn't stop thinking about that boy with the hazel eyes.

* * *

There was a highlight to our bad days. On our bad days, Roy would take me down to the shoot range to work on my aim. I'd gotten a license to carry a weapon, but I still didn't have as much training as Roy or some of the other guys. He packed up the case report after three hours or so of fruitless investigation. We went down to the range. I liked shooting. If you're wondering, no, I've never killed anyone, but I was still a good shot. Shooting helped everyone blow off steam, and it helped me clear my head and think more analytically over the evidence I had. Today though, no great epiphany hit me at the shooting range. On the upside, though, it got me closer to the training hour goal which I needed to log. We gave up after an hour or so, and headed back to the office for Roy to grab his things so he could drive me back home. I shoved my hands into my pockets and waited for Roy to organize the papers on his immaculate desk.

"I don't understand why you don't just take them with you." I sighed, "It's not like you ever take a break."

"Well, unlike you, I don't like to waste my time watching TLC." He snipped.

"Everyone needs a distraction, Anderson." I reminded him. He only snorted.

"You have yours, Kid, I have mine." As if on cue, his phone rang and vibrated on his desk. Roy sighed and grabbed it, knocking a photo off his desk.

"Hi, honey." He answered, and motioned for me to pick up the photo for him. I rolled my eyes, listening to him chatter on with his wife on the phone. I bent down and picked up the photo, and turned it over to look at it. I'd never seen Roy's family. I didn't even know he had this picture on his desk. It was a Christmas photo- a recent one. Roy's har still had that streak of grey. And he was actually smiling... That never happened at work. Next to him was his wife- Tala, her name was. She was Filipino with crazy curled hair and a homemade smile to beat the band. I'd never met her, but Carole had. They'd become pretty good friends, actually, after meeting at the hair salon. They became regulars and with apparently the same hair schedule. Sometimes they'd go out to lunch afterwards. I was sure she was a nice woman. On the other side of Roy was a young man in his early twenties. He was drop dead gorgeous and had obviously inherited his parents best featured, but there didn't seem to be a whole lot of intellect based simply on his shallow but happy expression. Text to Tala, stood only other person in the picture- a boy. Tala's unruly hair. Roy's thick eyebrows. Young about-

About my age. Olive skin.

Hazel eyes.

"Roy." I whispered, with dread flooding my stomach, "Roy."

"Hold on," He told his wife and pull the phone away, "What?"

"Is," I swallowed hard and showed him the picture, "Is this your son?"

"Can this wait?"

"Is. This. Your. Son?" I demanded.

"Yeah, that's Blaine." He sighed, "Why?"

I pulled my the sketchbook out that I used for cases and showed him a perfectly replicated portrait of his son. Roy looked from me to the portrait, connecting the dots. His eyes widened.

"Tala," His voice shook, "I'll call you back."

* * *

_Long chapter is long. Sorry about that, but now the story can begin! Also, Nestor Carbonell is and always will be Blaine's dad to me. Don't try to convince me otherwise. Anyway.. Please review? _


	3. What To Do

Roy's breathing came fast and panicked as he grabbed the sketch book out of my hands and studied it sharply.  
"Kid, I swear if this is some sick joke you're trying to pull-"  
"Why the hell would I do that? I don't joke about these kinds of things." I assured.  
"But- Why?" He looked up at me and for the first time since I'd known him, Roy looked terrified, "Why would anyone want to hurt Blaine?"  
He begged for some answer to stitch some sort of sense.  
'-to tell your daddy that we're even.'  
The man's voice rang in my head.  
Daddy.  
Roy.  
"Not to make this even more upsetting," I cleared my throat and took my sketchbook back as gently as I could, "But I think you may have something to do with it."  
"Me?" You could almost hear his heart break in his chest.  
"The man said something to Blake-"  
"Blaine."  
"Sorry, something to Blaine about telling his 'daddy' that they were even. So unless he has another father or some really effed up romantic relationship, I think he was talking about you."  
Roy collapsed into his chair, holding the family photo in his hands and staring in disbelief.  
"They want to hurt Blaine to get to me... to get even?" He shook his head and locked eyes with me, "Even for what?"  
I pulled a chair up from another desk and sat across from him.  
"Can you think of anyone who you may have... wronged? So much so that they'd want to kill your son?"  
"No. Absolutely not. I never-" He faltered, "You... You don't think it could be one of the guys we've locked up, do you?"  
"I don't see how. They're all in jail." I reasoned.  
"The ones of the cases we've solved at least..." He drifted of.  
"Are you sure this isn't more personal? You sure you didn't just borrow your neighbor's lawnmower and forget to return it?" I offered.  
"Are you serious right now?" He glared at me.  
"I'm just trying to help." I crossed my arms.  
"Okay well, 'helping' would be telling me who is trying to kill my son!" He bolted up out of his seat and threw my sketchbook across the room, "'Helping' would be giving me more information instead of just doing a half-assed job and not bothering to trying remember anything! 'Helping' would be you actually giving a damn!"  
He turned away from me to look out the window.  
"Right, I don't give a damn. It's my fault that I don't know more, and that you don't know anything at all. It's my fault that when I tried to tell you about this when I first saw it that you brushed me off and told me to just do a sketch if I wanted to. It's my fault that when this was someone elses kid, you couldn't be bothered but now that it's your own nothing is good enough." I growled back, staying in my seat.  
Roy raked his shaking hands through his hair, visible trying to compose himself. I'd never seen Roy so... unchained. He was falling apart by his normally welded seams. I knew, for his sake, I had to ignore what he'd said. This wasn't him, he was just scared. He was angry. He knew that the visions were not easy to deal with. He was lashing out because he was feeling too vulnerable. Dad did that too, so I knew that there and then, I needed to shut my mouth and let him work through this- even if it was at my expense. Sure enough, a few tension ladened seconds later, he apologized.  
"Sorry."  
"It's okay. I get it." I answered softly.  
"Do you?"  
I did. Something about my abilities allowed me to connect better with the emotions of people around me.  
"I can't control what I see."  
"I know."  
"I can't tell you how or why."  
"I know."  
"I can't stop it from happening."  
"I know!" He snapped and turned around, clearly irritated. I slowly stood and walked towards him.  
"But I can help you try to control it." I continue.  
"How?" He put his hands on his hips.  
"Tell Blaine." I suggested.  
"Tell him what?" Roy shook his head, "That someone's going to try to kill him and it's all my fault but that I don't know who or when? That'll go over well."  
"Just tell him what I told you."  
"Like anyone in their right mind, Blaine doesn't believe in psychics. No one is going to believe us."  
"Then don't tell him and just get him a guard." I tried.  
"You want me to get a bodyguard for my son?" He clarified speculatively, "We don't even have any evidence to authorize it protection agent." He walked back over to his desk in huff," Besides, Blaine's never going to let that happen. He hates my job and he hates me. He's never going to just go along with having someone hawk over him all day."  
"I'm sure he doesn't hate you." I rolled my eyes.  
"Yeah, well he's going to."  
I looked down hoping to find some sort of solution.  
"Get an undercover. Someone Blaine won't notice." I pitched.  
"And who am I going to get?" He demanded.  
"I don't know. It's Columbus, you can hire anyone to do anything." I reminded.  
"Right, so I hire some 300 pound, part-dealer on bale to blend in at a private school and protect my son so then he can turn around and be the one who shoots him." Roy nodded mockingly, "That's brilliant."  
"Then go to someone you know!" I raised my voice  
"No one is going to believe me!" He stood back at full height and leaned against his desk.  
"I will!" I shouted before thinking about what I was doing. Everything stopped and all you could here was the sounds of the traffic outside on the streets below.  
"What?" Roy asked in a surprisingly level voice after we'd been nearly shouting at each other.  
"I-" I swallowed hard knowing what I was about to suggest was a bad idea, "I'll believe you. I- I have a gun. I can shoot." I listed scrambling to find attributes to help the situation, "You know me. I'd never do anything to hurt an innocent person much less your son." I got closer to Roy.  
"I'm in high school. I'm just a kid, I can blend in-"  
"No." Roy stopped me.  
"What?" My eyes widened in confusion. This was perfect. Terrifying, but perfect.  
"No." He repeated and turned back to his desk top.  
"Why not? It's-"  
"Because you are just a kid. Need I remind you?" He said sternly, "Because you seem to forget."  
"Age is a number." I tossed, "It just corresponds to how long you're body's been around not your soul."  
"Yeah well, that number is significantly lower than anyone else on the field." He angrily shoved papers into his case.  
"It doesn't mean I can't do as good of a job." I argued, "You know me, I'm one of the best on the field!"  
"I don't care. You're not going."  
"You're not hearing me!" I yelled.  
"I'm hearing you just fine!" He matched my volume.  
"Then why not? We have a chance to fix this! We have a solution! I can do this!"  
"No you can't, Kurt!" He shouted and slammed the case shut. My shoulders fell lightly. Roy never used my name. Roy never called me Kurt. "You think you can't but you- you just can't."  
"Why not?"  
"You're just a kid!"  
"Bullshit. Tell me why."  
"Because what if something goes wrong!" He finally answered. Again, there was a deafening silence, "What... what if something goes wrong?" He slid into his chair, folding his hands and not meeting my eyes, "What if I lose you too?" He asked weakly.  
This was wrong. This man before me- this wasn't Roy Stonewall Anderson. This was my father right after my mom died. This was a man who worked hard what he had and was terrified that he would lose what he would have the chance to have.  
"Roy."  
"You're just a kid."  
"Roy," I sat down in my seat as well, "I... I don't have a lot of family. I mean, you knew me even before my dad got married. For a long time, my dad and I never even talked. We just kind of co-existed. So, I started trying to do something to- to help people. I wanted someway to help people, but I really wanted someone who wanted to help me help people." I recalled, "And of all the times I called, giving tips about victims or anonymous calls about cases, you were the only one who believed me. You were the only one who wanted to help me. I don't have a lot of family, Roy. You're one of the closest things I have. And you now you need help. Your son needs help. And I can do this." I assured, "I finally have a chance to stop the bullet instead of cleaning the blood. Roy, I finally have a chance to make the nightmares go away."  
He finally met my eyes and there, I saw was a battle in the hazel fighting the inevitable cave, all it needed was one more push.  
"Let me help you."  
I knew when he sighed, that it was over.  
"What size are you?" He asked exhaustively.  
"What?"  
"My son's school requires uniforms. What size are you?"  
I didn't answer. I only smiled at him reassuringly, even though my mind was screaming that this all was going to go horribly horribly wrong.

* * *

_Sorry it's been so long! I was on my senior class trip to disney. (woohoo disney!) anyway, here comes the plot! (yay plot!) I LOVE Parental!Roy and was going to save it for later in the story, but felt it needed to be here... Anyway, please review? _


	4. Nemo

Roy had called ahead and managed to pull a ton of strings to get me in on an 'Emergency Transfer'. Apparently they'd had such a condition put in place based on the amount of transfers the received, and needed to give those with due cause first priority. Then only catch was all 'Emergency Transfer' students had to go through a mandatory interview with Dalton's dean: Max Timmel.

Roy decided he would be the one to pick me and my dad up and drill me on my 'story' all the way there. Roy constructed some half-assed lie regarding my father's health and the reason I needed to be sent to a private school to relieve some of the stress and pressure at home. Roy said the board at Dalton just ate those kinds of sob stories right up. Dad watched me with wary eyes the whole way there. Speaking of lies, I hadn't really been completely honest with him about why I wanted to transfer to Dalton. I told him that I honestly thought that being away from the stress and the harassment at McKinley might make the nightmares stop, and that Dalton would make it much easier to come and go to the crime scenes without any of the other kids catching on like I felt the kids in glee were beginning to. It wasn't a lie. Not at all, those were just different reasons why I wanted to go. You'll probably think I'm a total jerk for lying- I mean "withholding the complete truth" from everyone I spoke to. But hell, that's my life and, unfortunately, the only way to get done what I need to get done.

Roy, knowing that Dean Timmel would recognize him if he were to come in, dropped Dad and I off at the front gate and told us to meet him back there when we were finished. He asked me a few last questions on the details of his carefully crafted 'story' to reassure I wouldn't screw this up. I had to resist rolling my eyes. He was nervous, but I knew better than anyone what happened would happen and it would happen no matter how hard I tried to change it. Either I would be accepted or I wouldn't. No amount of detail was going to change the future now.

Dad was scoping the place out carefully.

"Better than McKinley" I had to keep reminding him. We got to the office and the kind secretary (much more personable than the one at McKinley) told us to have a seat and Dean Timmel would be right with us.

"You sure about this, Nemo?" Dad whispered. I smiled softly. Dad only called me Nemo when he was having one of 'those' moments. You know, those moments when your parents are feeling very protective or loving? Dad had been calling me 'Nemo' in these moments since the movie came out around my birthday in 2003. It as one of the only movies he wouldn't mind watching with me again and again (especially when the VHS came out). As I grew up, I realized it was because he understood how Marlin felt. I was Dad's Nemo, and I always would be.

"I'm sure." I patted his shoulder, "Would you relax?"

"I don't do well around all these stuffed suits." He grumbled, slouching in his seat.

"Then it's a good thing you don't have to wear one."I fixed the collar of his flannel. Dad grunted in grudgingly response.

"This is gonna be fine. I promise."

"Mr. Hummel?" A clear smooth voice called, making both of us look up, "Hi, I'm Max Timmel. I'm the dean here at Dalton."

I stood up immediately to shake his hand.

"You must be Kurtis."

"Kurt." I confirmed.

"Kurt." He repeated and turned to my dad, "And you must be Robert-"

I pulled dad up out of his chair by the sleeve.

"Burt." He shook the dean's hand.

"Kurt and Burt. That's great." How many times have I hear that line? "Well Burt, if you don't mind I'm just going to steal Kurt for a few minutes for the interview."

"Sure." Dad nodded.

"I'll have Johan get you some coffee while you wait. Johan?" He turned to the secretary who nodded and got up to do so.

"Well then Kurt, my office is just this way." He led the way to his nice leather seated, mahogany desked, picture esque office and closed the door. He took a seat and began to review with me my grades and scores and gpa. He asked about my extracurriculars and the whole nine yards. Everything seemed to be great and then he asked the question.

"Why do you need to transfer to Dalton?"

I knew what I was suppose to say. I knew it. Every detail. Word for word like the back of my hand. But then I realized what I'd been doing.

I told Roy I wanted to transfer to protect his son.

Not a lie, but not the whole truth.

I told Dad I wanted to transfer so I could escape the ridicule of my classmates.

Not a lie, but still not the whole truth.

Now the Max Timmel was asking me the same question.

I hadn't lied yet, why would I start now?

"Last year, my dad had a- a heart attack." I stuttered, "And after that, I tried to take care of him and make sure he was okay. He just got married a few months ago and now, my stepmom is there for him. He's, um, he's been doing better. But- uh..." I hesitated, but did my best to swallow my nerves. After all, if something happened, someone should know the truth, "But, I... I haven't been. There is this um, for lack of a better term- jerk at my school. He and his friends have always sort of pushed me around or throwing me into dumpster or throwing things at me, but that was alright. I could brush that off, but recently, that one guy in particular has been getting more... aggressive."

"Aggressive how?" Timmel asked gently.

"Shoving me into lockers, and um... smacking things out of my hands and grabbing me and um..."

"Kurt?"

"He kissed me." If there ever was a moment when I was certain I had gone deaf, it was then. "I didn't want him to, you have to believe me. I would never- B-but he did and I didn't know what to do and then he told me he'd k-kil- hurt me if I ever told anyone. But I don't think he will, but he gets really close to be whenever nobody's around and I'm just-" I blinked back some pathetic tears that were stinging my eyes, "I'm scared." I admitted.

"But I can't tell my dad, especially with his heart. I can't let him know and I can't let anyone know because it would out this kid and- and I know he's just angry and he doesn't mean to hurt anyone- he just doesn't know what to do and I'm the only gay kid- out gay kid at school and- and my dad can't know."

By his expression, I knew that had been more than he'd been expecting. e carefully nudged the tissue box closer to me. I knew I wouldn't need it, but reminding myself of what Roy had said about the board of admissions loving the 'soap opera' stories, I took one and wiped my eyes.

When Timmel walked me back out to the waiting room, I saw my dad actually having a conversation with the secretary. He looked over to me for the indication as to how things went.

"Thank you two for coming in." Timmel said as I moved to side with my dad, "Mr. Hummel, I've given all the forms and paperwork to Kurt for you to fill out," I handed Dad the thick manila envelope, "And Kurt, we'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

_Mini filler chapter just to brighten your monday :) Next chapter has Blaine and the start of the adventure, and I want to take my time with that. So, here just for a little Monday pick-me-up. Maybe review and Enjoy! _


	5. For a Split Second

Dad and Carole drove me up to Dalton that morning. Dean Timmel showed me to my room, explaining that due to their enrollment, there was trouble finding me a dorm so I would the hall prefect (whose title usually rewarded him a single room to himself). The dean assured me though that this prefect, 'Wes' as it was, wouldn't mind at all. In fact, he'd already cleared room for me. He wasn't too messy either. Though my judgement could have been skewed from having had to share a room with Finn. Everything looked tidy in comparison to that monsoon of hormonal testosterone and Old Spice deodorant. Though being the hall prefect, maybe it was only expected that he uphold whatever regulations they required here.

It only took three trips to the car and back before I was all set. Dad looked reluctant to go and started messing around with my things to "help me settle in" or, in translation: 'get in the way'.

Carole only chuckled amused as he scrambled with ever knit picky thing he could.

"Dad," I stopped him, "Unless you're looking to put up new wallpaper and add a loft, I don't think there's anymore you can do."

"I can't do a loft," He lifted his hat and swiped his hand across the his scalp, "How about a nook?"

"Dad." I exasperated. He replaced the hat and smiled.

"I know kiddo, but I just want to make sure things are right." He sat down on the bed, "We don't want a repeat of summer camp."

"Oh, God no." I took a seat next to him.

"Why?" Carole asked, absentmindedly arranging books on my shelf, "What happened at summer camp?"

Dad opened his mouth to answer.

"Nothing." I stopped him, "Nothing ever happened at summer camp ever."

Dad smiled and shook his head. He got up from the bed and whispered to her,

"I'll tell you on the drive back."

"Don't you dare." I froze.

"If I stay a little longer, I might forget..." He insinuated. In my mind, I weighed the lesser of the evils.

"You know what? Fine. Tell her. But I've got to get going. Dean Timmel said Wes would stop by before lunch to introduce me and then help me get acquainted with a few of the kids." I stood and smoothed out the sheets I'd just wrinkled, "And I love you, Dad, but if you must tell that story, I'd much prefer that you share it with Carole in the confines of your car rather than in the presents of people whom I have the opportunity to befriend without the preconceived notion that I'm... different."

Dad said nothing and simply stared at me, as if calculating.

"Dad?" I waved my hand to catch his attention. He, instead, pulled me into a bear hug.

"You stay safe. Alright, Nemo? Call me every night, especially if something goes wrong or your head goes all screwy. I want you to call me, and I'll come get you."

"I will, Dad."

"And let me know if you're on a case with Roy. I just want to know where you are."

"Okay, Dad."

"And if you don't think you can handle this on your own, just call and I'll-"

"Dad!" I rammed my head against his shoulder.

"I love you, kiddo." He finished.

"I love you too, Dad." We pulled apart. Carole came up and took her valediction hug as well.

"Have fun." Dad waved on his way out the door.

"That's..." I waved, "Exactly what I'll be having."

"Call me!" Dad reminded halfway down the hall. With that I shut the door and enjoyed the emptiness of my new abode.

I took out the file regarding the Gullin case and decided to read up. Perhaps in a new environment, I would see something I hadn't before. I was so wrapped up I didn't even here Wes come in.

"Hello, hello, hello." He smiled gravitating towards the center of the room, "You're Kurt I take it?"

I swallowed hard, snapping the files closed and pathetically hiding them behind me. Yep, smooth. Perfect person for this job.

"Yes," I confirmed breathlessly, "I am."

Wes dropped his bag to the floor by his bed and extended a hand to me. I got up from my new bed and caught his grasp.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Wes." He shook gently, "I see you've already settled in."

He glanced around, with surprisingly little judgement.

"Yes well, I had some help." I nodded.

"Great," He clasped his hands together, "Well it's lunch time so if you're hungry, I can take you down to the cafeteria and we can grab something to eat. Dean Timmel told me that I could take the day to help you get situated, so don't worry about wasting any time. We have all the time in... well, the rest of the day." He joked.

"Lunch sounds great." I agreed quietly nodding my head.

* * *

Have you ever watched an old timey episode of the Twilight Zone? Because that's the only way I can think to describe Dalton. Everything seems normal on the surface but theres a linger air of uncertainty that hangs from the chandeliers. Little quirks about the place just ever so slightly tilt the balance you're used to. The boys that would pass were difficult to tell apart a lot of the time. I guess that's because I categorize people in my mind by what they wear (partly because of my zest for fashion and partly because it just makes people easier to distinguish and identify.) The uniforms were throwing me off. I must have walked by three mirrors and not realized it was my own reflection. Another thing was how similar the hallways looked. If you were to walk down any of these halls high, you might lose your mind entirely. Then never end and you honestly have to trace your finger across the wallpaper to make you're actually moving. But none of this seemed to even phase Wes. He effortlessly weaved through the maze and we made it to the 'cafeteria' which was honestly more like a food court.

Wes, sensing my bafflement, dragged me over to a station, put food on my plate and lead me to the check out. He then pulled me over to a table of boys- each with rather unique features I was grateful they had.

"Guys, this is new kid Kurt." Wes introduced, "New kid Kurt, this is Trent, Flint, Nick, and Jeff."

Each boy waved and smiled with their name. In my head I just kept repeating their names: Trent, Flint, Nick, and Jeff. Trent, Flint, Nick, and Jeff.

Trent was a heavier guy, but had a very sunny disposition that radiated with his emotions... well from what I could see and feel.

Flint was less enthused, trying to act cool and coy.

Jeff was definitely a bottle blonde and seemed a bit stand off-ish.

And Nick, well, Nick was the most friendly looking face at the table.

"Do you guys mind if he sits here with you for a bit? I have to run and tell Thad and David that I can't make the meeting."

"Depends," Flint cocked his eyebrow, "What's the meeting about?"

"That's official Warbler business, and is not to be released to the public unless diliberately directed by-"

"Is it about solo auditions?" Trent asked.

"I'm not going to answer that."

"Is about not having solo auditions anymore because they're pointless and we all know who's going to get it?" Jeff elaborated.

"Ugh," Wes rolled his eyes, "Can Kurt sit with you guys? Please?"

There was some grumbling amongst them.

Well. I felt wanted.

"Come on, if you're going to be mad, then be mad at me. Don't take it out on poor New Kid Kurt." Wes patted me on the shoulder.

Some kid begging other guys to let me sit with them. This wasn't belittling at all.

"You can sit here next to me, New Kid." Nick smiled moving his bag from the seat next to him and across from Trent. I knew there was something I liked about this guy. I smiled gratefully and sat down and before I even looked up, Wes was gone.

"How'd you get stuck with Wes?" Nick asked poking at his salad.

"Oh," I looked down at my food, "Um, there wasn't another room available for transfers."

"Oh." Nick nodded sympathetically, "Well, I'm sorry he just kind of abandoned you, but that's just how things are."

"Wes is on the counsel for the Warblers, you see." Trent explained mockingly.

It was one of those awkward moment when I wasn't sure if I should have already known what that was. So, cluelessly I asked.

"What's the Warblers?"

"The Warblers are kinda like the 'allstars' here. Most schools probably have like a football team or a lacrosse team, but for us it's the Warblers." Nick struggling to find the best way to say this without sounding like a tool, "An impromptu concert can start and the whole school will shut down. It's pretty cool."

"So.. " I was leaning to conclusions, that couldn't be right. Glee club wasn't cool. Ever. "it's like, a singing thing?"

"It's our glee club. It's a cappella." Flint answered leaning back into his chair to look nonchalant.

"But the thing is, we're run by a counsel. Wes," He pointed the kid I'd just met across the room, "David," -A dark skinned boy standing next to him, "and Thad." -A shrimp, that almost appears to be struggling to hear what the other two were saying.

"They tend to pick their best friend to sing lead on every song."Jeff said bitterly stabbing at his food.

"Come on guys," Nick pulled them out of their their death glares,"you now they pick him because he is the best we have."

"But would it kill him to not act like such a diva?" Jeff groaned ironically under his breath.

"They're all divas, even Wes. He just leaves Burt here so he can go talk with the Gavels."

"It's Kurt," I corrected before mumbling, "Burt's my dad's name..."

"Sorry," Flint tossed synthetically, "Kurt."

"It's fine. I-I'm sorry," I shook my head trying to keep up, "Did you say Gavels? What are-?"

"The ones who bang the gavel at us during meetings because their so important." Trent rolled his eyes.

"Come on, they're not that bad." Nick defended, "They just get caught up in it all. You would too."

None of the other boys really acknowledged him; only quietly returned to their food. Nick's good hearted smile faltered as he looked down to his own food. I felt bad. Nick was only trying mediate the negativity, which was admirable, especially in a heated 'bitch fest'.

"You're very nice." I told him, trying to reassure him of his positive attributes. You don't see enough of those. Nick looked up, meeting my eyes and almost blushed.

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Thanks."

The silence felt a little uncomfortable luckily, Trent spoke for the rest of the table until Wes finally came back and took my on the tour of the rest of the school.

* * *

Dalton looked a lot bigger than it actually was. Most of it was actually dorms, really. But Wes took his precious time with it, just so he could miss class. Afterwards he told me he had to go to another 'very important club executive meeting' so I could just chill in the room. 'Chilling' was a little lonely. Classes were done for the day, and I began to wonder what the rest of the boys were doing or why Wes wouldn't take me to his meeting just so I could get to know some kids like lunch. Maybe Nick would be at dinner, I was certain he would let me sit with him and introduce me to a few more people. I flopped down on my bed and pulled the flies back out. If this was work I might as well had been doing work.

"Hey Wes, I- Oh." A warm voice turned cold as it barged into my room unannounced. That wasn't Wes... How the hell did he even open the door without a key? I slipped the flies into the side table drawer before looking up to see who it was. When I did, I froze.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just looking for..." He gestured to Wes's side of the room, "Wes."

"Oh." Was all I could say- completely caught off guard by the deja vu feeling I had that I'd only had when I saw my visions in real life. And he certainly was a vision...

"I-" He scratched his head awkwardly, " I guess I'll just..." He pointed to the door.

"O-okay." I barely said, still frozen.

And with that he left. Just a clang of the door as he closed it behind him. He never even introduced himself. Was that even ten words he said to me? Then why did it leave me feeling so unsettled. And... I'm not even sure what just happened. I was just knew, on some level, I wanted it to happen again..

* * *

_Once again, Happy Monday! I'm sorry it took so long. I've had a busy week. Went to the 'The Office' Wrap Party in Scranton, PA. I got to see Rainn Wilson and Steve Carrel! Also, I got a Congressional Certificate of Merit from the House of Representatives for writing... which was cool. And I have to write a valedictorian speech for graduation. So that's fun. So, that's Kurt and Blaine's first meeting. I bases all the Warbler Characters off of the emotion I read from their facial expressions in their pictures. That's all I got for now. Also, I just say Silver Linings Playbook (AKA Jennifer Lawrence is a perfect human being: the movie) and I would LOVE to read a lovable mentally unstable Kurt or Klaine fic if anyone knows of any or if I have to write one myself... Let me know! _

_Anyway, please review! _

_~Holleigh_


	6. Mr Cellophane

I "coincidentally" had most of the same classes as Blaine. Although while he sat in the front of the class as Mr. Congeniality, I hid in the back and tried not to be noticed. They all noticed Blaine though. He was pretty smart (though I was smarter by a long shot) and funny. Oh and (yes I feel weird saying this about Roy's son) attractive. Short though, he was very short. He must have gotten that from Tala's side. Blaine apparently loved music- playing, singing, listening. That was something we had in common. I couldn't help but smiled a bit at my naivety. What did it matter of what we had in common. The fact was, I was his guardian angel and... well a ghost sent to spy on him. He was... well, popular. Popular and invisible to quite mix. True to my profession, I spent most of my time keeping to myself and observing. I say most because apparently, I had made quite a friend in Nick. He smiled brightly whenever her realized I was in the same class as him, and sat down next to me to talk about how my day was. As these occurrences passed, I realized why they'd felt so foreign. I'd never really had someone who wanted to sit next to me. I never really had someone who wanted to talk to me and be my partner on projects. I never had a best friend. For once, one of my peers actually wanted me around. For once, I was beginning to feel normal.

"Hey, New-Kid-Kurt," Nick greeted as he sat down in the deck in front of me in AP World Lit.

"Nick, I've been here a week,"I informed him, "Do you really need to call me "new-kid" every time?"

"What am I supposed to call you?" He shook his head with a goofy smile.

"Oh, and this is a long shot here," I snarked, "How about 'Kurt'?"

"Fine," He sighed in defeat, "But good luck getting the other guys to do that." He pulled out his books from his messy bag and piled them onto his desk, "But since you brought it up, you have been here a week."

"Huh." I flipped through my notes.

"And it is Friday."

"Yep." I stuck the tip of my pen in my mouth absent mindedly.

"So as a 'Yay you survived your first week' celebration, I was hoping you might want to come see the Warblers 'mini concert' tonight."

"Mini concert?" I looked up.

"Yeah, we usually only have 2 big concerts a year; one in the spring and one in the fall. And they're faculty sponsored, so we have to do their old boring favorites, but we like to do a couple of mini concerts under the radar so we can do the not-so-Dalton-appropriate songs we want to. It's a pretty popular thing. You should come." Nick suggested the last part softy.

"Oh," I sat a little straighter, "Yeah... I don't know if I-" I got distracted by a roar of laughter coming from a group of boys on the other side of the room. I looked over and, no doubt, it was Wes and David and Blaine. Blaine was laughing so hard his eyes were barely visible and his smiling like he was the king of the world.

"Se, they're all excited for it too." Nick nudged my arm.

I kept my eyes on Blaine as he cackled like an idiot, completely ignorant to the fact that at any moment he could be shot. A friday night seemed like the ideal place for that to happen.

"Sure." I agreed with my gaze still fixed on him, "I'll be there."

* * *

"Does this place even exist?" I muttered in the passenger eat of Nick's car. Trent, Jeff, and Flint were all piled in the backseat.

"Trust me, it does. We perform here all the time." Jeff answered from behind me. How the hell had anyone ever even found this place to begin with? We must have been at least in eight miles of heavy woodland terrane with the only guide to a road being the area that had slightly less shrubbery from being run over.

"See?" Jeff pointed in front of me, "Told you it existed."

If you were to ask me where to find a homicidal mental hospital escapee, this would have been the first place that came to mind. It was an old deteriorating building with crumbling cement and infectious moss. There were vines weaving together and hugging the whatever part of wall that they could. They were broken off and dying where the doors were- big and industrial and ladened with thick rust. But who would need to use the door when the clouded and water stained weathered windows were smashed and cracked and shattered. Of course you should have to skillfully avoid the jagged shards that remained in place, but it was still a more viable option than the door that was probably harboring more disease that a homeless man's foot.

I said nothing as Nick part the car and all of us climbed out. That's when Nick saw the look on my faced.

"Kurt, you alright?" He smiled amusedly

"Are you guys going to kill me?" I asked in semi-mock suspicion. Nick and Trent laughed as Jeff and Flint smirk.

"No, no," Flint assured, "We're not. But rest assured that's exactly what I thought when I first came here too."

"Come on, I want to show you inside! The acoustics are awesome!" Nick ran ahead.

I followed them into the death trap that they were using as their performance venue, but stopped dead in my tracks as soon as I was inside.

"Isn't this cool?" Nick asked rhetorically. I said nothing as the goosebumps races across my skin and the chills climbed their way up my back. My heart was pounding, but I didn't know why until Nick informed me,"It used to be a warehouse."

He continued speaking but I couldn't hear him. Wes called all the Warblers to a warm up circle and Nick excused himself. I'm sure their voices were great, and the accoustics were wonderful but that world around me went deaf. All I could hear were though stunning acoustics echoing a woman's bloody cries- a haunting melody of screaming that was too familiar. I slowly followed my deja vu over to the other side of the warehouse room. When I saw the remains of that heavy trail of blood that nobody else had even noticed, I started slipping. When I found that it lead to the same dried up puddle of blood that was once wet and warm, I was gone.

Do you you remember how I told you there were three types of visions? Well, this was the third- possession. Roy always told me it looked as though I was in a trance: blank face, dead and unfocused eyes, and slow movements. Roy hated whenever I let this happen. Most of the time, if I was prepared, I could keep my consciousness. I'd only get a little woozy. But at if I chose to, I could fall into this 'spell' and relive exactly how the victim died. The only downside was that once I did, I lost touch with reality and it all became real to me; the terror, the pain, the screaming, the blood. I did it against Roy will, because I knew it was the fastest way to catch the killer. But when I wasn't prepared, there was nothing I could do to stop it. And this moment here was the first moment in a long time it had happened, and Roy wasn't around to try to pull me out of it. No one was.

The warehouse was empty now... To me at least, and I couldn't move. I was standing but someone was holding me, and I was too weak to fight back. I was shaking and trembling violently. The man's tanned muscular arms were crushing me, and then there was a blade in my abdomen and blood gushing like a demolished dam. It happened again, and again, and I couldn't scream. I couldn't scream because the blade was now dug into my trecea and ripping through half of my neck. I used what energy I could to hold onto my neck, but the second the man let go, I was down. I was on my back looking up at the man. Pain overwhelming me, but still able to see his face crystal clear. I was still shaking; seizing violently. The man smirked and shook his head. The vision began to flicker and I saw Roy above me, looking down with concerned eyes.

"Roy." I tried to call out to him so he would pull me back, but nearly no sound came out. His eyes weren't concerned- no, they were terrified.. they were- Oh God, no they weren't... they weren't even his eyes. It wasn't Roy. As the full image became clearer and clearer, I realized it was Blaine who was kneeling beside me and holding me down from my shaking. The pain was still alive and flaming. I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head. And then there was black.

* * *

When my eyes flickered back open (which couldn't have been more than a few minutes later), Blaine was still there with his fingers against my neck and wrists.

"Kurt!" Nick was on my other side.

"Give him some room, Nick." Blaine instructed, and Wes put his hands on his shoulders to hold him back a bit, "David, can you get some water?" He asked over his shoulder.

"Hey there," He turned back to me and smiled. Now don't judge me because I don't say this often, but I'm telling you I could have melted right there, "You're Wes's new roommate, right?"

Oh, so now he was gonna talk to me?

"I'm Blaine. I'm the one that kinda barged into your room." He distracted. I can't believe he didn't think I knew who he was. I nodded. David returned with the water and handed it to Blaine who handed it to me.

"Are you alright? Does anything hurt?" He helped me sit up and I drank. I felt all the residual invisible blood washed away. I coughed slightly.

"It's blood." I croaked. Blaine's face contorted and the crowd of Warblers shared looked.

"What's blood? Are you bleeding?" He reached up to touch the back of my head and check for blood. I shook my head and clarified.

"No, this," I gestured to the dried red trail and stained concrete where the puddle had been, "It's all blood."

There was a wave of panic as all the boy backed away from it and studied it carefully. Blaine too looked down at it.

"Are you sure?" He asked. I closed my eyes and shuttered.

"Positive."

1234567890-2345678901234567890

"There's no need to get hysterical. For all we know it could be from an animal." David stood in front of the crowd of Warblers. I sat in one of the folding chairs they had set up, with Nick an Blaine beside me to make sure I was okay.

"Yeah because a killer bear hanging around in here is a lot better than a serial killer." Blaine muttered next to me. I let out a shaky laugh. He looked over at me and chuckled lightly in response.

"We're not going to take any chances, though. So for tonight we're gonna cancel the concert until we can find another venue." Wes instructed.

"Who's idea was it to have our performances here anyway?" Nick asked, disgusted by the very place he'd been giddy to show me.

"Mine." Blaine whispered loud enough for me to hear it, but not Nick, "Sorry, Kent."

"Kurt." I corrected.

"Oh..." Blaine averted his eyes with slight shame, "Double sorry."

I couldn't help but smiled, "No worries."

"So, um... you don't do well around blood?" He depicted. I bit my lip.

"I suppose you could say that." I surmised.

"Oh, right yeah that was kind of a stupid question, huh?" He cringed with adorably awkward embarrassment.

Alright, now that you're here, I'll tell you the real reason I wanted to transfer.

Because that moment right there was when it all clicked. I knew then that after one vision- after one look, that the love of my life needed me to protect him. And that I would... at all costs.

* * *

_Sorry it's so late, guys! A lot of stuff has been going on. I'm writing a new play, so I've been busy. Anyway, this is what I got this week. I hope you enjoy! Please review._


	7. Calling

"Aw, don't feel bad, Kurt." Nick reassured, following behind me as I entered my room, "My Aunt faints at the sight of blood too."

I had to resist rolling my eyes. I flopped onto my bed.

"Well, it's good to know I have the same reaction to it as a menopausal woman." I grumbled, toeing off my shoes. Nick only smiled. Nick smiled a lot. "You really don't think anyone's mad?"

He shook his head and sat down in my desk chair.

"Of course not, it's not your fault." He shrugged, and folded his hands together like a child.

Yeah, alright, it was embarrassing to have to own the fact that everyone thought I simply fainted because I saw blood, but what else was I going to do? "Besides, we needed-"

Nick's mindless consoling was cut off by my phone blaring the Law & Order SVU theme song.

'Roy' It identified on the screen. Nick looked down at it curiously.

"Um, Nick, this is my..." I snatched the vibrating phone off my desk, "...Boss." I finished, "I'm sorry, but it's probably important. Do you mind if I...?"

"What? Oh, No! Not at all! Go ahead!" Nick mocked indifference as he stood to leave, "It's fine. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine. Thank you again." I rushed a bit.

"Yeah anytime." He slowed towards the door. I knew if I were to wait any longer I would have missed the call, so I slid my thumb across the screen and answered.

"Hey... Roy." I greeted, knowing I could call him by his last name in front of Nick.

"Roy?"

"Yeah, I'm good how are you?" I feigned pleasantries, letting my eyes wander the room.

"Who the hell said you could call me Roy?"

"I-" I elongated until Nick finally closed the door,"-'m sorry you're not more important."

"Excuse me?"

"I was in the middle of a conversation, I had to wait until he left. Would you rather I not have picked up at all?"

"If you could cut the crap, I'd like to inform you of something serious."

"The crap is cut," I decided, "what do you have?"

"We found the warehouse."

Know, just so you don't think I'm an asshole, you have to understand that after being mentally and metaphysically tortured to the point of blacking out, you get a little tired. When I'm tired, I get bitchy.

"Oh really, Roy? You found the warehouse? How was that? Was that fun? Finding the warehouse?" I voice became blunt and agitated covered in so much sarcasm I was surprised there were actually any words and wasn't just incisive umbrage noise.

"Yes." Roy deadpanned.

"That's..." I sighed and flopped back against my pillow, "That's great, Anderson."

"Yes, we're quite proud." It was then that I realized through the smirk that practically dripped through the phone that he was trying to irritate me. Roy wasn't an idiot.

"Good for you." I grumbled.

There was a pause for a bit. Right before I was going to look at the phone to make sure we hadn't disconnected, he spoke up.

"Are you okay?" He sounded surprisingly compassionate.

"Peachy." So, naturally, I bit back with sarcasm.

"Hummel."

"No, actually, I'm not okay. The food here makes me nauseous, I have a serious headache which may be growing into a full blown migraine which I attribute to your incessant smugness, so thank you for that. I can't make sure my dad's taking care of himself, Finn has no clue what's going on and won't even talk to me! And I'm looking over my shoulder every second to make sure that there isn't a maniac with a gun ready to kill your son. I think my night visions are getting hazzy and cutting out, but everyone else here seems to be completely ignorant to what's actually going on... It's just like camp and 'm the only one who didn't get a care package." I finished pitifully. And don't worry too much about not understanding that, I was tired.

"Do you want me to send you a care package?" Roy asked in a bemused tone. I sighed and rolled over, looking at the picture from our family vacation on my nightstand.

"Yes." I whispered. If I wasn't mistaken, I may have heard Roy chuckle at the other end.

"Hummel," He called.

"What?" I mumbled into my pillow loud enough for the phone to still pick me up.

"Blaine called me."

"Woohoo." I cheered half heartedly.

"He told me that they were holding a little bird thing concert in a warehouse and some kid passed out because he found blood in a corner. Hummel," He called again. I didn't answer, so he asked again in a more poignant tone, "Are you alright?"

He knew... Dammit, of course he knew- he was a detective if anyone could put two and two together, it was him.

"I..." I turned my head to the side to speak clearly, "I wasn't thinking. I didn't expect it. I-I wasn't prepared. It was stupid of me."

"Stop rambling and answer me." He demanded, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." I swallowed after a moment of hesitation, "Yes, I'm okay."

"You're sure?"

I nodded.

"You know, I can't physically see you nodding."

"Right, sorry. Yes, I'm sure." I recollected, "Just a little shaken."

"I can tell." He muttered, "What happened?"

"Nothing new," I sighed, "Just stabbed and slit my throat."

"I don't mean to grill you, but did you happen to see anything-"

"I saw the guy who killed Sandra Gullin, no one else. I can do a sketch and scan it over to you tonight." I reached over, grabbing my sketchbook out of my drawer.

"It's nearly 10:30, shouldn't you be going to bed."

'Geez Roy, if you were half as nosey with your son as you are with me, maybe he wouldn't have to fear for his life.' Is what I might have said if Wes hadn't walked in at that moment.

"Criminy, is there no privacy in this place?" I exasperated under my breath, "Listen, my roommate just walked in. But, I'll do it tonight besides, there's no chance I'm going to get much of any sleep at this point anyway."

"Goodnight, Hummel.." He bade.

I snorted, "Always a pleasure."

With that I hung up and tossed my phone unceremoniously on my side table. When I looked up, I saw Wes looking over at me, intrigued.

"That your dad?" He guessed. I said nothing. I simply shook my head.

* * *

_So writers block... It leads you to write completely useless filler chapters... there may have ben maybe one or two key points in this and that's it. Ughhhh write is hard. le sigh, I'll try again this week, but this what I've got for tonight. I hope you enjoy. Please review? _

_~Holleigh_


	8. Aca-Awkward

"Knock knock." Nick onomonopia-ed as he opened the door to my room. I glanced up from the sketch of I'd been working on. It had been a week since my warehouse endeavor. Roy's team had found next to know proper evidence (most of it had been ruined by the Warblers when they stormed through). It'd been over a week since I hadn't been able to sleep properly. The previous night hadn't brought much sleep as predicted, and what little shut I was granted was ladened with miscellaneous bits of information that I couldn't seem to string together quite right. I sketched along the corners all the bits and pieces: Sandra Gullin in here finer appearance than her final moments (eyes wide open because I never did get to close them), some pointless details of the warehouse, some numbers scribbled, and in the bottom corner, the gun that I knew would eventually shoot Blaine. That hadn't been in my visions the previous night, but still it lingered in the forefront of my mind.

"Whatchya doin?" Sang Nick lightheartedly as he pranced through the door. I did my best to cover up my work, but he was too quick, "Wow, are these yours?" He grabbed it.

"Um yeah, can I have it back?" I tried to remain composed and gentle. There really wasn't anything in there that could have given be away. Nick would have just thought I was deranged.

"Hold on, I was see these." He flipped a page, "These are incredible. Do you take classes?"

"Um, no- no," But you kind of have to pick up the skill if you do it day in and day out, "I just... sketch."

"Why this stuff?" He flipped page that had a bunch of scratchy handwriting and an line sketch of a little girl with a backpack. Melanie Krape, I remember. We got to her just in time, but when we did, she was covered in her father's blood and crying herself hoarse.

"I don't know..." I faltered, "It's um... just stuff that think of."

"You think of numbers?" Nick stopped on a page with a long sequence of numbers written and different algorithms using them.

"Uh.. I like math." No, I didn't always know what the numbers meant but I tried to play with them and see if I could uncover a hidden meaning.

"Crazy." He shook his head.

"I'm not crazy." I said quickly. He pause momentarily with a look of guilt, feeling he may had deeply offended me.

"Oh," He lowered the book down slightly, "No, I didn't mean you're crazy. I meant like, this is crazy. You're kind of a genius, aren't you? Like that guy from A Beautiful Mind, right?"

'More like The Sixth Sense.' I thought.

"John Nash was schizophrenic." I corrected, "I'm not a genius, and I'm not crazy." I took the book from his hands.

"Right," He agreed reassuringly as I slipped the book back into my side table drawer with the other files, "Of course. I know you aren't. I didn't mean to offend. I just..." He swallowed hard.

"It's okay. Actually, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap," I apologized before decided that Nick had a right to know, "It's just... My brother thinks I'm crazy. A-and I think my Dad is starting to think that too. Carole might as well, but I don't think she'd ever say anything outright. And if I do come off as crazy it's because I haven't been getting enough sleep. And that's only because I'm up too much doing this stuff, and I don't have any distraction from it. I mean I used to watch TLC but these dorms do allow TVs and they never watch anything of purpose in the lounge and at my old school I did glee because Iove music, but then insestuous MTV wannabes that made up the club, and don't get me wrong I loved them, but they stressed me out even more and I ended up drawing and messing with the numbers half the time because it gets worse in stressful situations, and then they have the nerve to think I'm crazy when they're all wondering who they can sleep with next without getting another one them pregnant, and it was Finn, who's a bonafide moron mind you, to tell them that he thinks I might be nuts? Are you kidding me?" I looked to Nick who just stared at me with eyebrows halfway up his forehead.

"I- no. What? No. I don't think you're crazy." He thinned his lips and shook his head quickly, "It's just... You think really fast and it's hard to keep up and I have ADD so it's especially- Wait, who's Finn?"

"Finn's my brother." I answered.

"Right. Right." He connected, "Wait, you did glee club?"

I nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me? That's great! You can join the Warblers!" He solutioned.

"Oh, because I-" Because I what? Was trying to keep a low profile? Well, I'd pretty much blown that. If I were in the Warblers, I'd be able to keep a better eye on Blaine, "I'm... um... out of practice."

"All the better! We can practice together!" His eyes lit up.

"Oh I don't think-"

"I do! I need to practice if I want to audition for a solo and didn't you say you needed a distraction?" He convinced.

"Well, yeah but-"

"Come on, we'll go right now, no one's in the practice room except for Trent and the other guys."

The other guys, as I had come to learn were the guys from our lunch table.

"Oh, jeez nick that sounds great but I have doctors appointment in an hour and-" I excused before he cut my off by grabbing my wrist and hauling me off the bed.

"One song, please? One song and then I promise I won't bug you about it again." He begged like a little puppy dog. I honestly wondered how old this kid really was. I rolled my eyes with a sigh.

"Fine. One song."

* * *

It's funny how we can forget how much we love something or someone. You spend too much time away from it, and you convince yourself that you don't need it. And it's only that moment, that lightning strike that hits you when you find it again- you reconnect. And then it all fall back into place like imprints never left. You pick up right where you left off and if you ever feel like that, it's your heart telling you that you never should have left. That's how you recognize passion. That's how it felt when I sang again. It'd been a while. Life (specifically life when you can't go a day without gruesome visions) can dull your passion. I just hadn't realized how long it had really been since I'd sung. True as it was, Flint, Jeff , and Trent were in the practice room messing around with harmonies and making fun of one another as Jeff strummed away on guitar. They were all amused to see me. Nick was jittering while telling them that I agreed to sing one song. The four of them stood in front of me with expectant looks.

"What?"

"We're waiting," Flint leaned back folding his arms, "Take it away."

"Wait, I don't get any accompaniment?" I folded my own arms. They looked to each other before Jeff rolled his eyes and reached for his guitar.

"Fine," He pulled out his pick, "But I'm picking the song."

My brow furrowed as he strummed the first few chord. I bit my bit as I recognized the tune. Nick smiled and looked at me. Oddly nervous after having not sung in a while, I turned away closing my eyes and sang to the empty half of the room.

_"I'm feeling sexy and free."_ This was stupid, I hated this song. _"Like glitter's raining on me."_

I dropped my head pathetically, _"You're like a shot pure gold,"_ I scratched the back of my head, _"I think I'm bout to explode."_

I heard laugh behind me and knew this was probably the worst thing I could have done. I turned around and saw all of the boys sitting there smiling and Nick with his hand over his mouth.

Sit uncertain, I continued.

_"I can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air. Now I'm breathing like I'm running cause you're taking me there. Don't you know? You spin be out of control."_

The shitty thing about being pale is ironically not the way people tend to go snow blind when they look at me on a sunny day, but rather the fact that when I blush, it is very noticeable.

The other guys must not have cared because, on cue, they joined right in by singing the _"Ooooh- Oooh- Oooh- Ooooooh"s_

They all got up and clapped along. Nick, obviously trying to get me to loosen up, tried to get be to dance. That sad part was, I did. Before I knew it, we were on the second verse and I was standing on various pieces of furniture. I was playing the piano during the bridge and everyone was smiling to beat the band. Adrenaline decided to try and give me a heart attack, but I didn't mind. For once, in what seemed like months, I was having fun. It almost felt foreign, and should never ever happen. By the end Nick collapsed in exhaustion, and pulled me down with him. All of were in the middle of the room laughing our asses off by virtue of the stupidity in which he had indulged.

Indulge... maybe that was the secret. Maybe if I just indulged, I wouldn't be so miserable.

"Kurt," Trent huffed, "That was incredible!"

"Yeah, your voice is pretty kick-ass." Flint complemented, "You'd totally get into Warblers if you wanted."

"Get in? Are you kidding? He'd give Blaine a run for his money!" Trent bolstered.

Underneath the hard breathing and laughing and the bickering between Trent and Flint, I hear a voice to my right sigh "Olive hue."

I looked over to Nick with a confused smiled.

"What?" I chuckled. His eyes widened, and his smiled faltered.

"What? No. What? I didn't , no, I didn't s-say anything." He laughed and quickly got up.

"You should join Warblers." He sputtered out, "You'd be amazing!"

"Really?" I looked up at him, thinking about the opportunity I could hold. I could feel better like this, and simultaneously fulfill my duties as Blaine's guardian angel... Who knows, maybe I'd even get to learn more about him and I really wanted to.

"Definitely." Trent nodded.

"Alright," I decided, "I'll give it a shot."

I climbed to my feet as well and casually looked over to the clock on the wall. I cussed inwardly.

"I got to go, I'm late for my appointment." I excused.

"Yeah, no worries!" Flint waved as I rushed out, "We have something we'd like to talk to Nick about anyway- ow!"

"I'll talk to the counsel about it!" Nick assured. I thanked him, closed the door and sprinted. Well, I would have if I hadn't immediately run into someone who was lurking by the door.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there!" I rambled, as I got up to help him.

"No, no, it's my fault. I should have learned by now not to hang out around doors." He got up and turned to see me, "Oh... Hi."

"Hi," I breathed airily, "Sorry about the-"

"No, no. It's um... me with the... you know, doors." Blaine pointed to the pair I had just come out of.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

"Stunning." said Blaine absentmindedly.

"Stunning?" I cocked my head at the peculiar word choice.

"Good. That's what- that's what I meant. I'm good. Doing good." He corrected. Apparently, he didn't think I could handle his vocabulary.

"Doing well." I corrected.

"Oh yeah? That's good." He smiled.

"No, I mean it's 'doing well', not 'doing good.'"

"What is?"

"The... the, um, grammar."

"Oh..." He nodded, "Oh! You meant that I screwed up the gram- and then you were saying- not that you were actually- oh, okay." He sighed, "I'm sorry I must seem really stupid."

"Not all the time." I smiled, "I'm in some of your classes."

"Yeah, I know. You, um... you don't talk much."

"We've never really talked." I said softly.

"Oh... well, we should!" He brightened up.

"Okay." I agreed happily.

"Yeah, um... what are you doing now?" He asked.

"Oh, um noth-" And then reality hit me like a freaking ice pick in my frontal lobe, "Actually, I have an appointment."

"Oh..." He bit his lip.

"But, uh, I'm free later tonight!" I remembered, "If you know, you wanted help with your World Llit homework, or Gov, or-"

"Dinner." Blaine interjected.

"What?"

"I mean, grammar." He covered, "Grammar and dinner, grammar over dinner. You said my grammar wasn't right, so maybe that. It- it was a joke. And it wasn't funny and I'm sorry I said that." He blushed. I couldn't help but laugh at the attempt of humor and how adorably awkward I was finding him to be.

"Talking can help with grammar." I suggested.

"Yes, which is why we should talk!" He led.

"But not now." I reminded.

"Right, later." He concurred.

"Tonight." I added.

"Dinner." He decided.

"Dinner." I confirmed.

"Really?" He smiled.

"Yes?" I cocked my head.

"Cool. I'll see you tonight." He straightened his jacket and turned to walk away,"Oh, crap!" He turned back around, "I forgot to tell you, I was heard because I hear singing, so I looked in and I saw- well, heard- you singing and I wanted to tell you that you definitely should be in the Warblers, because you really, you sing good." He sputtered quickly.

"Well."

"Well what? That- that was it..."

"No, it's grammar. You sing well." I corrected.

"Oh, thanks." He smiled, "So do you."

I shook my head and laughed lightly.

"Dinner? "He asked again hopefully.

"Dinner." I confirmed once more.

"By Kurt."

With that, he trotted off in the other direction. I couldn't help but watch him go.

"Bye Blaine."

****

Wait, did he just ask me out?

* * *

_Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the most awkward conversation I think I've ever written. I'm not even sure what just happened myself. But, sorry this chapter took too long. I've had a crazy past few weeks. I had my sisters graduation (Bill Cosby spoke!), I went to florida, came back, went to New York, accepted an award from Sarah Jessica Parker on stage at carnegie hall, met Usher, Zach Posen, and Adam Driver. Then waited until midnight to me Tom Hanks and get his autograph. the next day, I went to philadelphia and nearly got arrested steeling my own work from the art show (then the cops had cake with me and it was fine) And yesterday I had to give a speech on high school and the types of mental diseases writing can help combat. I have my friend grad part on sunday and my own graduation (where I have to prepare and give my valedictorian speech) on monday so I've been a little swamped. Excuse my rant. I share only so you know I have valid reasons. _

_Thanks for reading! Please review! _

_Love Holleigh_


	9. Hanging In There

"You missed the turn," I commented, my mind still reeling from the most confusing and yet pathetically thrilling conversation I think I'd ever had.

"We're not going to that doctor." Dad said warily, turning a foreign corner.

"What?" I furrowed my brow and sat straighter, "Why?"

"We're trying a new one." He kept his eyes on the road out of uneasiness, rather than safety.

"What's wrong with Dr. Patel? She always has the best 'crazy mother-in-law' stories!" I whined.

"Because Dr. Patel isn't this kind of doctor." Dad gently as he pulled into the parking lot of a building of private offices. I swallowed hard at the creeping suspicion.

"And what kind of doctor is this?" I glared at the building. Dad pulled into an open spot and parked. He switched off the ignition and looked at me.

"Kurt," He said seriously, "I want you to give this a chance." And just like that, my suspicions were confirmed.

"No."

"Kurt-"

"I said no shrinks!"

"I know but-"

"Then why are you making me do this?"

"Because you don't see it!"

"See what, Dad? Because I guarantee you, I see more than the average person."

"You-" He stopped himself, and I caught his gaze. It wasn't mad or really frustrated, but... sad.

"What?" I asked with vague worry. Dad was never afraid to tell me anything, "Dad, what don't I see?"

He sighed and closed his eyes, "You've been getting worse."

"Worse?"

"You remember when you were a kid? Everything was fine. You slept through the night. You never had nightmares. You could pay attention in school. You were so much more happy." He reminisced. I nodded, uncertain of where he was going. "You never saw anything back then. Before... you know." He turned to stare unfocused through the windshield.

"Mom died." I sighed. 'Died' was the term we used, but to clarify 'hung herself' was what I meant.

"And everything kind of went to hell from there, didn't it?" Dad asked.

"You couldn't have known." I assured him, unsure if it meant how he became near catatonic when he wasn't at worked and most days forgot to pick me up from school or go grocery shopping as if I were then a ghost too, or if it there was no way he could have known she wasn't well. There was no way he could have predicted he'd come home and me floating lifelessly in our inground pool after Mom told me she'd help me learn to swim in the deep end. Mom wasn't well, and she was having one of moments- the worst she'd ever had. She held me under until I blacked out. I don't know what happened after that. All I know is that Dad came home for lunch that day. He managed to revive me and call an ambulance. Neither of us either saw Mom again. Well... Alive at least. Dad had to stay with me in the hospital so he called out neighbor to go see if my mom was anywhere at home.

He found her hanging in the shed. Not hanging like "Hey you wanna hang?" but like her neck was broken and was swinging from the noose she'd made out of my blue jump rope.

Mom wasn't well.

I mean, of course she wasn't. She was dead. But how could anyone have seen it coming? I mean, sometimes she'd accidentally packed me tuna fish on a sponge in my lunchbox, or turn all the furniture upside down, or put our potted plants in the seats at our kitchen table, but dad would ask her why she did something like that, and she'd never remember why. She had... lapses, I suppose. I like to think that when she tried to kill me, it was only a lapse- that somehow she got mixed up and thought that drowning me was the best way to show me how to swim. I like to think that we realized she made a mistake, and thought hanging herself was the only way to get me back. I guess it's good to not have answers. Because then it's easier to make up the excuses that help you sleep again.

But really, no one could have known.

No one could have known about her... so why would I be any different?

Suddenly it clicked. Dad wanted me to see a shrink to make sure that I wasn't like her. He loved her dearly just as he loved me, and... and you can't really lose that kind of love twice and be okay. Dad was scared that the nightmares and the visions were something more sinister. Dad wanted reassurance that I wasn't losing my mind. Dad need to know that I was not my mother.

"Okay." I agreed, feeling such a terrible pang in my heart for him. I could feel the stress he was feeling, and it wasn't worth it. I could suck it up for one appointment, "Okay. We'll go."

"Really?" Dad looked at me, "You sure."

"Just one session?" I cleared.

"Unless it goes well and you want to come back." He confirmed.

"Let's go." I opened the door.

* * *

Dr. Frebowitz didn't believe in psychics. No surprise. I'd be concerned if anyone with a doctorate did. Dad, however, explained that I had been suffering from frequent 'nightmares'. Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed in the room to cover for me if I screwed up.

"About what age did the nightmares begin?" Dr. Frebowitz leaned back, casually scribbling down some bullshit.

"When I was almost eight." I answered.

"And what happened at that time? Anything in particular?" He adjusted his glasses. Well, how was I suppose to put this nicely? I decided I couldn't and went for the more direct-

"My mom tried to kill me and then hung herself."

Dr. Frebowitz glanced up at me with a small hint of disbelief.

"I see... And how did she-?"

"She drowned me in the pool in our backyard." That's when the visions started, I wanted to answer. "Oh, and then she hung herself in the shed with my jump rope." I smiled, trying to make him feel uncomfortable. This whole thing was stupid, he wasn't going to be able to help me.

"And," He cleared his throat, "What are your nightmares about? Drowning or your mother?"

"Oh, neither." I shrugged, "I swim just fine. I don't jump rope much though. I don't dream about people I know. Everyone in my dreams are strangers."

Frebowitz scribbled something down.

"Can you describe a couple?" He requested.

"Oh, well, it's pretty much anything you see on one of those CSI shows. Horrible really." I got up from my chair and went over to examine a painting on the wall of a crane in some cattails, "Did you paint this?" I asked to ease the tension. He swiveled his chair slightly.

"Oh, no that was a gift." He informed, "In your dreams, Kurt, people are dying?"

"Sometimes, yeah, unless I wake up in time." I moved onto another painting of a fisherman on a pond.

"In time for what?" He asked, making my halt. Shit.

"Oh, um... in time for school. Or you know to um... not see it happen." I faltered.

"Are you the one doing the killing?" He asked in a different tone that cause be to turn around and look him in the eye.

"No," I shook my head, "Never."

After a moment of judgment, Frebowitz nodded and continued scribbling down.

"I'm not a killer." I stated, "I'd never kill anyone. Not even in my worst nightmares."

"Did you feel the same about your mother?" He shot. I felt a flash of heat wave across me.

"I'm not like her." I growled, "She was sick! She wasn't mentally stable!"

"Kurt, as a psychiatrist, judging by your answers and behavior, I don't believe you are far off." He stood, "These dreams you have, and the amount of them you have are not the sign of good mental health. You demonstrating the beginning of textbook psychopathic tendencies."

"I'm not crazy." I turned away, trying to distract myself. Stress always brought on visions and I wasn't about to having one right in front of this asshole. I turned and focused on the third painting- a beach house on the shore.

"I'm not labeling it as crazy, Kurt, but if your mind continues on this path, it may merge with your reality. You may not be able to tell the difference. I fear that's what may have happened with your mother-"

I didn't heard the rest of what he said. My focus on the shorehouse because a blur and there was a faint call of seagulls in the background before I saw the hazy outline of Blaine smiling and a mumble of voices. There were other faceless people in the room, but all the attention shifted to one man whose words were also deafish. Blaine stood, and cocked his head. The blurry outline of the man pulled out a gun, and it all faded to a moving shoreline. The sounds of waves crashing and seagulls crowing, I stayed like that for an eerie moment of uncomfortable and inappropriate peace. But then, I was snapped back into the room with Dr. Frebowitz.

"..hear me? Kurt!"

"Blaine..." I whispered. I had to get to Blaine. Was that vision present or future? I didn't know and I didn't want to risk it. Blaine needed me. I had to get to Blaine.

"What's a blaine?" Dr. Frebowitz asked. I looked up at him with panicked eyes.

"You're wrong." I spat, "About everything. I have to go save Blaine."

I turned and sprinted out the door and into the waiting room where my dad was working on a copy of _'Highlights'._

"Dad, put down the coloring book. We have to go." I rushed and pulled at him by the hand.

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on. How did it go?" He pried.

"Uh, good news! I'm not crazy! But we need to go. I have to get back to Dalton." I pulled.

"Hold on, I want to talk to Dr. Frebowitz." He pulled his arm away.

"Don't bother he's an idiot! He has no idea what he's talking about. The University of Maryland should give him a refund on his Ph.D."

"What?"

"It's so not important! I need to get to Dalton, Dad! I have to make sure Blaine's okay." I begged.

"Who's Blaine?" He shook his head.

"It's doesn't matter! His life is at stake. Can we go? Please?" I relentlessly tugged at his flannel sleeve.

"Oh." It clicked, "Yeah, o-okay. Let's go."

We ran out together and I tried to distract from Dr. Frebowitz calling after.

* * *

"I have my badge. You can speed." I told my dad. He looked more frantic than I did and he didn't even know what was going on. Dad had never been through this stuff. I'd always been able to drive myself or call Roy up, but this whole this was new for him. We finally reached Dalton and jumped out, calling a quick "love you" and then sprinting for my life... well, Blaine's like rather.

In near hysterics, I finally found him in the common room.

"Hey Kurt!" He smiled and waved at me.

"I looked around, trying to catch my breath. There was no man, only a few boys and Blaine smiling like an idiot, sitting next to Wes and David.

"Hey..." I sighed in relief, and leaned against the door frame. Blaine got up and met me at the door.

"You okay?" He asked in mild concern. I sighed once more, this boy's eyes were magical. They were warm like sand and looked like caramel. Something about them and the way he smiled just put me at ease. It was like as long as I could see those eyes, everything was okay.

"I'm great." I smiled back.

"Good, because I have some great news." He beamed with pride, "I got you an audition for the Warblers."

* * *

_What the hell is wrong with me? I go from very sweet and very awkward to one of the most morbid back stories I think I've ever written. I sped through this chapter a bit... sorry for that but writer's block is a bitch to get through and I just want the story to move on. Also, I want to start writing the Klaine scenes. [SPOILER ALERT: things get easier for Kurt the more time he spends with Blaine because Blaine eases Kurt's stress induced visions.] So those scenes will be more fun,( especially with Blaine's dad). Oh! and a fun Nick scene too. There's a lot to look forward too, so just endure these couple crappy chapters that are the thorns of writers block. Also (because I've gotten a few questions about it) I don't write a story from multiple perspectives. I think it tends to be confusing, so I won't be writing any chapters from Blaine's perspective but trust me, you will understand what he is thinking and feeling. _

_In unimportant news, I graduated and gave my valedictorian speech yesterday, so I'm no longer a high schooler! Woohoo!_

_Anyway, thanks for reading! Please review!_

_HolleighBackGirl_


	10. Guns and Roses

" I need a gun." I pulled down on the chain hanging from the light bulb to turn it on. The maintenance closet was the only place private enough to make a very suspicious phone call. Unfortunately, you ran the risk of stepping in a bucket of filthy pine sol water and passing out from the overwhelming smell of ammonia, but all and all it was a good spot for doing some undercover shit. I was like janitorial James Bond. "I know I have a gun, but I need to be able to carry it around under my uniform."

"What happened?" Roy asked and I could vaguely hear the squeak of his office chair as he leaned back.

"I... saw something."

"Brilliant Kurt. That helps a lot." He deadpanned, "Mind sharing what exactly you saw?"

"Well if you'd just listen for a second, Sargent Sass, I would tell you." I huffed, "It was Blaine again. Roy, I think whoever is gonna do this is gonna come for Blaine in school."

"That's impossible," Roy refuted, "Dalton is the most secure school in the county."

"Oh! You're right, Anderson! How stupid of me. There's absolutely no way another can get hurt! I guess my vision was wrong." I snapped.

"I don't need the attitude, Hummel."

"Then just listen! You don't think I know that Dalton has high security? I'm very much aware. In fact, it's so secure that there are no firearms or means of self defence on campus. So if we have an intruder, we're screwed. And guess what Roy? We're gonna have an intruder!"

"I can get you a permit." He sighed, "Just keep your weapon concealed at all times, understood?"

"You don't need to tell me twice."

"Hummel?" He changed his tone.

"Yeah?"

"How's Blaine?"

"He's fine, Anderson." I assured him, "And he will be. I promise. "

I hung up and leaned back with a sigh. That lean, however was against a mop that fell and tipped me, sending my foot into a bucket and my body slamming into the custodial cart. The water drenched my shoe an pant leg and I just laid there on the floor for a few minutes thinking things through.

"I want to go home." I admitted to the empty antagonistic closet.

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"What happened to you?" Flint mumbled with a mouth full of macaroni and pointed to my drenched leg with his fork. I sighed and took my usual seat, flopping down my tray of dinner and holding myself back from just dropping my head into it.

"I... got lost." I excused.

"Where? The Everglades?" Jeff snorted.

"I took a wrong turn and ended up in the maintenance closet." I explained as they all snorted in laughter at my made up misfortune- all except Nick of course.

"Were you alone?" Flint leaned forward suggestively.

"What?" I shoved a bite of food into my mouth. Of course I was alone. How could I have ended up in the maintenance closet with somebod- oh.

"Were you alone," Flint smirked, "Or was Blaine with you?"

Jeff and Trent chorused in sophomoric "Ooooooh"s like a pack of inner city girls with weaves and acrylic nails. Nick didn't join in, which I was grateful for. He merely looked up briefly and shifted in his seat. Nick didn't tease me as much as the other guys did. I know it's all in good fun but it's just nice to have a friend like Nick who seems to always be on my side.

"Why would Blaine have been with me?" I shoved another bite in my mouth. For future reference, no amount of food stuffed in a person's mouth can distract from the blinding shade of red their face is turning.

"A little Warbler may have mentioned something about you two having dinner tonight, and yet here you are with us. So I was just wondering if perhaps you skipped dinner and just got down to the good part." Flint winked. My eyes widened and slowly my jaw dropped.

"Shit!" I threw my fork down. Dinner! How the hell did I forget? Okay well, I know how I probably forgot with everything that happened this afternoon, but shit! Typical me, a good thing finally happens, someone actually wants to spend time to get to know me and I screw it up by accidentally standing them up! "Shit!" I cried again, picking up my food and not know what to do with it.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was it a secret?" Jeff cocked his head unapologetically.

"No, and no thank you for reminding me. I completely forgot. Gah! Here," I shoved my tray toward Nick who was half way done his food, "Have mine too. I'm gonna go see if Blaine is still around and hope that he doesn't hate me." I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I was in a rush and heading out, but I still hear the guys laughing as I left. Jeff nudged Nick and laughed something like, "Some guys get the boy and others get his rejected dinner."

I shook my head as I semi-jogged on the way out. What did Jeff mean? Was it really possible that this was my one chance to get close to Blaine and that I would only be faced with a reject dinner plan? I didn't know why they were laughing. It wasn't funny. Sure enough I was in a full sprint in the dorm hall, trying to find wherever Blaine's was before I realized I had no clue which one it would be. Out of nowhere there was a tug on my arm of someone I had run past tryign to hold me back.

"You alright?" I turned and looked at the voice, filling my chest with heat, "Your dorm's this way, isn't it?"

I smiled and nodded.

"I just- I didn't forget. I mean I did, but I'm here and I was looking for you because dinner- and I don't know where you live- and I had dinner but Flint said it was reject and I-" I huffed incoherently as Blaine's full eyebrows furrowed in bemused confusion.

"Woah, woah, easy there, Tiger. I was just on my way to see if you were ready." He laughed.

I took a deep breath, "Oh."

"Are you wearing cologne?" He cocked his head after a moment. I inhaled deeply, trying to figure out what he was referring to. Had I put cologne on today? After shave? No...

"Pine sol." I realized.

"What?"

"It's Pine sol. Not cologne." I lifted my pant leg to show him, "I got stuck in the maintenance closet and I stepped in a bucket and I..." I muttered off, "Do you like it?"

Blaine grinned and laughed genuinely.

"I'm more of a Lemon Pledge guy myself, but I'll take it." He jested.

There it was again. All stress from my body simply drained. All I felt inside was warmth and ease as though everything were normal. Everything was fine. I met the look in his eyes and I needed to remind myself that the safety was fales. That I needed to protect those eyes if I wanted to be able to keep them with me.

"I should change."

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By "change" I meant "grab my gun and a new pair of pants." Roy was getting me a warrant, so having it concealed on me would be fine. I needed it if I was going to spend the night with Blaine. Not that I was going to "spend the night with Blaine" but you know...

We ended up just having pancakes at an all night dinner down the road. Was it a date? Can pancakes at a highway dinner be a date? How the hell would I know, I'd never been on one. Whatever it was, I liked it. The more and more we talked and learned about each other, the more I felt... normal. Blaine made me feel normal. All I knew was that I never wanted that feeling to leave me.

"Anyway, long story even longer, it turns out my mom had been buying take-out and putting it on our dinner china just so she could prove Dad wrong and make him apologize." He finished his story about Tala and Roy and their argument over her ability to cook. Blaine loved to talk about his mom. His face just light up whenever he'd tell a story about her crazy antics just the way it did when he talked about music or the Discovery Channel. Oddly though, he didn't talk about Roy much.

"What about your dad?" I asked innocently.

"What about him?" Blaine dunked a strawberry into whipped cream, "He works a lot."

"You don't talk much?" I sipped some orange juice. Blaine shrugged.

"We do at dinner, but it's never in much depth. He doesn't like to talk about work, but that's all he does, so he really doesn't have much to talk about at all."

That made sense. I worked with Roy, all we talked about was work and (once in a while) our families. Still, with how much I knew Roy cared about both his sons, it was strange to know that he didn't really have a firm connection with them- or Blaine at least. From what I was getting, Blaine didn't get along too well with his brother. Perhaps that relationship was peculiar too. The more and more I learned about Blaine, the closer I felt to him. We had so much in common, and maybe that's why he didn't share much with Roy. Roy and I have a very comfortabl animosity. At the end of the day, even if Roy and I had pissed each other off more than usual, I could still come home to my own dad, who never failed to make sure I knew I was loved. Roy, though... Well, he seemed like the kind of guy that would keep most of the love and pride for his sons to himself (and maybe a few colleagues), but never share that with his family. Roy had never been good with what he didn't understand which is why no one would ever suspect that he believe in psychics. The resemblance was striking, but I couldn't help but feel the workings behind those eyes were very very different.

"What about you?"

"Pardon?" I snapped back to reality and to my delightful blueberry pancakes.

"Well, I've gone on for an half an hour about my life. I really want to know about yours." He dribbled some more syrup on his chocolate chip filled cakes.

"Oh," _Keep it cool Kurt. Tell him the truth, but not too much. Be honest, but keep the details to yourself. For God's sakes don't blow your cover! Jesus, you're blowing it already! Just answer him!_ "I read." Kurt, you suck.

"I see. And what do you read?" Blaine cocked his head, adorably. I suck. I really suck. I don't even read. Why did I say that?

"Books. I- I read books." _Of course you do, Kurt. You can't even remember the last book you read. Fix this! Fix it!_ "Um... but really I like to draw." _Okay, whatever. Clear your throat and go with i_t, "You know- sketch."

"Really?" Blaine's smile (which I'm certain was the equivalent to sunlight in a greenhouse) was gentle and intrigued, "What do you draw?"

_Oh, you know- psychic visions I have. Nightmarish scenes of murders and toured victims, people I've never met but need to help, you being shot in the face by an unidentified suspect. Take your pick._ Suddenly the sketch of Blaine I'd done flashed through my mind; the shading and details were spot on. Oh all my sketches, the one of him was the most beautiful I think I'd ever done.

"Whatever I see." I shrugged, "Because I can't take pictures. I draw the things I see and the way I see them."

Blaine was quiet for a moment as he thought it through.

"I like that." He admired and after a moment added, "I like you."

Of course he said that and the orange juice in my throat took an alternate route and burned my nose. I grabbed napkin and held it to my nostrils before Blaine could see.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." He reached for a napkin as well to hand it to me, "That was really forward, wasn't it?"

I couldn't speak. I simply coughed out the rest of the juice and shook my head.

"God, I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry! I've just never done this before, and I didn't think..." He babbled. I swallowed hard and took the extra napkin from his hand and wiped it across my lips.

"It's fine. I'm sorry. I am just... surprised is all." Awkwardly laughed and recomposed myself.

"You're surprised? Why?" He seemed really nervous now.

"Well, I just... I didn't think you even knew my name before this afternoon." I admitted.

"Of course I did. I just... I really wanted to know more about you after we met." He explained, "I was kind of badgering Wes to tell me more about you because I was being too much of a wuss to talk to you myself, and good God I sound like a total creep."

"Not at all." No, yeah that was a little creepy. But really? He was Blaine Anderson! Probably one of the most popular guys at Dalton. Who the hell was he to be shy? "But... why? Why today? Why me?"

"I don't know, I was just walking by the practice room and I heard you singing and it just... It made sense." He shrugged, "And I knew that if didn't get my act together and ask you out, someone else would."

"Wait, so this is a date?" I was still catching up, and trying to tone down the cheering filling my head.

"O-only if you want it to be." He held his hands up to reassure me that I had no obligation.

You ever smile for the first time in a long time and the muscles ache so bad, you're sure your face will break? Yeah, well that's what it felt like.

"Yes. Yes of course." He laughed and Blaine's shoulders loosened, "Best first date ever." I complimented.

"Think so?" He hesitated, but I nodded enthusiastically, "Good. Because I'm having a really great time, Kurt."

"Me too." I held up my glass and clinked it playfully with Blaine's as he held his. We both sipped and broke eye contact to prevent smiling while drinking.

"Oh, and Blaine?" I set my glass back down, "I like you too."

"I'm glad," Blaine's blush spread to his ears. I leaned back, my smile didn't even falter when I leaned back and felt my gun press against the small of my back.

_Forget about it, Kurt. Tonight is a good night._

* * *

_Gahhh I'm so sorry for taking so long AGAIN. Writer's block is a bitch. This chapter was fluff, but necessary. _

_I gotta run, but thanks for reading!_

_Tell me what you think or what you want to see!_

_Please review? _

_~Holleigh_


	11. Like

"Like" is a sort of a strange word isn't it? People are afraid to say it even more that "Love", because they feel it won't hold enough meaning. One the other hand, people can be so afraid to say they 'love' something, that they cover it with "like" or "it's alright". For instance, I'll gladly say that I "love" Patti LuPone. If you asked me, however, how I felt about Star Trek, I'd say "I guess it's okay," when really I cringed every time Artie mis-cites a quote or an episode and I just want to throttle him. I'd say "I've never really watched it" when Finn is sworn to silence after he found my model replica of the Enterprise and Mr. Spock coin bank under my bed. No, if you were to sit across me and confuse Star Trek with Star Wars, you would never be able to tell that I'm holding myself back from picking up my chair and throwing it at our head. My point is not that I have an unhealthy and beyond stereotypical gay-taboo relationship with Star Trek, but that when we are afraid of the things we love, we try to pass them if they have no effect on us. That and your brother might mock you with it until your head explodes, but the point is whether its fear of embarrassment, fear of intimacy, or fear of rejection, we tend to downgrade things for our own protection.

I like Blaine. And Blaine likes me. That's it. No over thinking it. Plan and simple- "Like" means "like". I liked Blaine, just like I liked my bed. Just like I liked thinking about things like this, in a positive distraction. I like thinking about the possibilities. I liked not knowing, which was rare for me.

I liked dreaming too. That night after our... (well I guess I can say it) our date, I layed in bed over thinking things the way I did with the word "like" (yes as awful as it sounds, it's sort of soothing) and eventually, I fell asleep. Now go ahead and re-read that. I fell asleep. And dreamed. I know, I know, "Hold up, Kurt. That's crazy talk! You don't dream!" But really, I did.

I'm not sure if I even remembering dreaming in a none 'For Mature Audiences Only" way. The dream was of me and Blaine (Yeah, I know, shut up.). But this was the weird part, we were on the beach. It's weird because I've never been to the beach! I've never even seen the ocean! But I've always wanted to. After all, thats whats dreams are supposed to be, right? Our hidden desires all come together in a semi-memorable vignette.

The second I woke up from this dream, I smiled. I wanted to remember it. Even if it was just a few images that made me happy, they were worth saving. I turned to the last page of my sketchbook and began.

Classes were different. Now when Nick would plop his stuff down in a seat next to mine and start yammering, I'd (ever so slightly) turn my head to catch a glimps of Blaine shooting me a small smile or a wave or an exasperated look whenever someone said something idiotic or disagreeable.

"Kurt?"

"What?" I snapped out of my gaze and looked back at Nick.

"Did you hear me?" He laughed.

"Of course I did... whether or not I absorbed what you said remains the variable." I flipped open my notebook.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner tonight?"

"Huh?" I pulled out my pen, "Oh yeah, sure! Where are you guys going?"

"Us guys?"

"Yeah, you, Jeff, Flint, and Trent." I scribbled down the date and started copying the notes on the board, "You guys never go out to eat. What's the occasion?"

"Oh." I felt some of Nick's usually high energy levels drop, "Um..."

Nick made ambiguous noises, like an animal trying to talk until he formed words again.

"Well, we're all celebrating. Um... Flint got accepted to is switching his car insurance, Jeff got a new dog, Trent is trying out a new shampoo, and I... am happy for them. All of them. All us guys." He listed. So... they were celebrating because Trent switch his horrible hair-stripping care product to a different horrible hair-stripping care product in a different label.

"Okay. Sounds great, just stop by my dorm and let me know when and where." I smiled.

"Will do." He sighed and turned back around in his seat. Across the room Blaine subtly point to Nick and cocked his head at me. I shrugged back, not understanding at all what was going on.

Everything started making sense at lunch, though. I sat down in my usual spot with my usual tray, and Nick wasn't far behind.

"Kurt," He sat down and turned to me, "I need to talk to you about tonight."

"Oh?" I dropped my fork and dapped by mouth with my napkin, "Yeah, what's up?"

"It's just, I don't think you understood what I meant." He touched his forehead sheepishly, "What I meant to say was-"

"Can you believe they don't have nachos? What a ridiculous excuse for a Friday meal plan." Flint flopped in his seat, interrupting Nick.

"It's Wednesday, Genius." Jeff dropped into his spot.

"That's not the point, the point is everyday should give you the option of nachos. Talk about oppression..." He drove his fork into his lasagna.

"Um, guys?" Nick politely interrupted, "I was kind of-"

"This is the last time I take your advice on anything hair related, Jeff. I should have known not to listen to a bottle blonde." Trent huffed.

"Guys..." Nick tried again.

"It's not dyed! And what do you mean it's the last time you take my advice? You were using Suave! You might as well have been using sand paper." Jeff barked to Trent.

"Oh, I'm sorry and your Garnier Fructis is about as nourishing as a cinderblock." He shot back.

"Now, I don't really want to start something here, but if we're on the topic- Paul Mitchell or nothing." I tossed out.

"Who has thirty bucks to spend on Paul Mitchell?" Jeff turned to me.

"Buy it online." I shrugged, "You get wholesale pricing. It's not as cheap as Suave, but it's cheaper than Tresemme."

"Don't get me started on Tresemme." Trent rolled his eyes.

"And what do you recommend for styling products?" A smooth voice came up from behind me.

I broke into a grin.

"For you, I'd recommend less." I teased.

"Ow." He placed his hand over his heart, "You wound me."

I laughed incautiously at his dramatization.

"Regardless of your brash insults, I was wondering if you'd like to join Wes, David, and I for lunch." He leaned against the empty seat next to me.

"Oh... Actually-" I looked to my friends.

"Actually New Kid Kurt sits here." Jeff spoke up, "With us."

"Oh." Blaine shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, no offense Blaine, but Kurt's our friend. He eats lunch with us." Nick shyly added.

"Actually, you guys, Blaine's my friend and there are more than enough seats here," I reminded them and turned back to Blaine, "Why don't you, Wes, and David pull up some seats and sit with us?"

"No way, New Kid, you're inviting the Gavels to sit with us?" Flint leaned across.

"Well wasn't that the problem? That they kind of ignored you? Finally you guys can get to know each other." I reasoned, "Nick, this is what you've been talking about since I got here! Back me up."

Nicks eyes flickered from either of mine in indecision.

"You know what, I didn't mean to cause an argument. I just wanted to congratulate Kurt on being the newest member of the Warblers." He smiled boldy.

"What?" My eyes widened.

"Yes!" Trent cheered across from me, "Kurt's this is awesome!"

"New Kid sweeping up!" Flint congratulated.

Unable to contain myself, I got up out of my chair and threw myself into a Blaine's arms.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I chanted and pulled away.

"Hey, don't thank me. I had nothing to do with it. It was all you." He squeezed my shoulder. I shot him a warm smile and turned back to the table.

"I guess we each have something to celebrate tonight, right?" I sat back down next to Nick.

"What?" Trent cocked his head.

"What's tonight?" Flint asked.

"Dinner?" I answered. How did these guys not remember?

"What dinner?" Jeff retorted.

"Oh come-on guys, you can drop the act now. You know how we were all going to go out to dinner tonight... together... as a group. I asked Kurt and he understood that it was going to be all of us. But now we can just tell him the truth." Nick fidgeted, "Somebody tell him the truth."

Flint snorted, "What? The truth that you are completely-"

"Responsible for planning a congratulations dinner for Kurt tonight?" Trent cut him off.

"What?" I looked to Nick for confirmation.

"Trent's right. I-it's for you! We all knew you'd get into the Warblers, so we wanted to congratulate you." He said, "Surprise!"

I looked around the table at everyone nodding and agreeing and looking sort of lost.

"You really had that much faith in me?" I asked incredulously.

"Of course I do." Nick's shoulders relaxed and I quickly pulled him into a hug too.

"You're the best, Nick!" I pulled away, "You guys are the best friends ever!"

I was so elated, I didn't even noticed the looks Blaine and Nick were exchanging. I was just lost in a sea of positivity.

* * *

The other boys gave in, and Blaine waved Wes and David over to sit with us. Unsurprisingly, they sat by Blaine, who sat next to me. As much as I tried to merge the groups, Trent, Flint, and Jeff talked amongst themselves, and Wes, David, and Blaine were in another conversation on my other side. Nick, bless his soul, was trying keep up as I attempted to go back and forth between conversations. After I gave up on trying to understand all of the inside jokes that were being tossed around between Trent, Flint, and Jeff, I ended up just listening to Blaine's lamenting.

"I just- argh! He's driving me crazy!" Blaine ran his fingers through his hair.

"Who, me?" I jested. Blaine smiled a bit out of his anguish.

"I wish. No, it's my dad." He corrected, "He's gone a bit paranoid with checking up on me."

"Well, maybe this is his way of trying to reach out to you!" David offered.

"Trying to convince me to drop out of Dalton is not reaching out." Blaine retorted.

"Wait, you're leaving Dalton?" Nick chimed in, slightly hopeful.

"Not on my life, but my dad keeps insisting that I'm in 'danger'." He Blaine waved off.

"I'm sorry, how does he think you're in danger again?" Wes inquired.

"That's the most ridiculous part! He works with a psychic! The psychic told him that I was in danger!" He exasperated. He, Wes, and David all laughed and shook their heads.

"You're kidding! Your dad? Your dad believes in psychics?"

"Not just belives in them- he hired one to work with him on his cases!" He exclaimed.

"Wait so you don't belive in psychics?" Nick piped. I said nothing and kept a neutral but intriguided face. So Roy was sharing now, huh?

"Psychics? No. Illusionists? Yes." He took a sip of his soda.

"Illusionist?" I blurted out.

"Well, yeah. I think the guy my dad works with is very good at guess what might happen or who the missing person might be or even where they might be. It's all just an educated guess though."

"Alright, but isn't the psychic accurate? I mean, I don't think a person like your dad would believe with undisputable proof." David countered as well. Damn right, Roy wasn't an idiot. I'm still not completely certain he believes me! It took years of my calling in anonymously to drop tips and everything I knew before he even hunted me down to figure out how a pale theatless boy from small town Ohio could know anything about unreleased cases.

"Alright, I'll admit he's pretty good. He hasn't been wrong yet. But that doesn't mean that he isn't getting tipped off by the mob! Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if he was a creepy old guy going out and doing all these things, tipping of the investigators, and framing someone else!" He chuckled.

"Is he creepy and old?" Nick asked.

"I don't know." Blaine cackled.

"What's his name?" Asked Wes.

"Twenty bucks says it's Kurt!" Nudged David. All the guy erupted into roaring laughter. Through my panic I still smiled and played along.

"But see? I don't get how my dad doesn't understand how ridiculous it is! I'm not leaving Dalton and I'm having a body guard!" The sickeningly true comment about the guard invoked another wave of whole hearted laughter, followed by comments like "A bodyguard, really?" and "Are you serious? That's hysterical!"

Sure, sure, It's gonna be real funny when we're standing in front of Blaine's casket. I thought, trying to forget the evident discomfort of my gun pressing against the small of my back.

* * *

_Dont mind me, just trying to move this story along... please please please review? _

_~holleigh_


	12. Colors

The rest of the day went great. I got partnered up with Blaine for a lab and I was officially inducted to the Warblers. The best part was that I got to listen to Blaine sing. I have no idea in my supernatural brain how someone as serious, cold, and calculated as Roy Anderson could father someone as quirky, stunning, and talented as Blaine. I have spent the better part of my life listening to singers both phenomenal and abysmal, but never in my life have I felt, by the comfort of one voice, that things could be so beautiful. Blaine's voice wasn't dark like Roy's, but had had the cool tone. The cool undertones mixed with the Filipino sunny quality he, no doubt, inherited from Tala gave him the illusion of a fanciful crepuscule. Blaine was the epitome of dusk- an opportune moment to see both the sun and the moon in the same autumn sky. Long story and overdramatized imagery short, Blaine sang well. I could honestly spend the happiest of my days just listening to him hum or sing or just talk.

In fact, I got so distracted by just listening to him talk, that we ended up being the last two in the practice room after rehearsal had let out.

"What's your favorite color?" He handed me my bag.

"Huh?"

"It's been driving me nuts, we talked about so much last night, and I don't even know what your favorite color is." He circled around the piano. I couldn't help but let out a stupid sounding giggle.

"Blue."

"Blue?" He seemed disappointed in the answer.

"No, not just blue." I rolled my eyes, "It's a very specific blue. It's that blue that you can only see when the sun is setting and the clouds are pink and you think the sky is purple, but it's actually blue."

Blaine said nothing for a moment. He only stared before letting out: "Huh..."

"What?" I defended.

"Nothing, I just never noticed it before." He picked up a piece of music.

"What? The sky?" I guessed.

"No, how one person can change everything you thought you knew." He muttered.

"You didn't know the sky was blue?" I mocked and recieved a 'look' from him, "Hey, I'm kidding. What's yours?"

"Huh?" He put his music in his folder.

"What's your favorite color?" I leaned against the piano.

"Well, it's new but I think it's my favorite." He hugged his folder, "It's sort of a dark teal, but it has lighter streaks in it. I like it because it changes color depending on the light."

"I don't think I've ever seen that color." I thought aloud.

"Nah, you wouldn't see it much, now would you?" He smirked, making eye contact.

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.

"I mean, last night was really great." I bowed his head to hide his blushing cheeks.

"Yeah, it was." I agreed.

"I would ask you out again tonight, but I know you have your dinner-"

Shit! "Oh God, I completely forgot!" I burst. I had told Nick to meet me at my dorm before we left.

"Oh, you have to go now?" Blaine dropped.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. But I'll talk to you later! Okay?" I gather my things as quickly as possible and stuffed them into my bag.

"Yeah," Blaine called after me, "Absolutely."

I ran out the door and down the hall. When I finally got to my door, Nick was nowhere to be seen.

I caught my breath and glanced around. Nope. No sign of him. Typical, I freak myself out and rush to get somewhere to realize I had nothing to worry about. Just to feed into my madness I checked my phone. No messages.

Aw, well. At least I would have time to change into something nicer. I pulled out my key and unlocked my door... well, I tried to. It was already unlocked...

My heart cranked into overdrive, and I moved my hand to my gun for safety. Slowly, I pushed the door open and stepped in. I immediately saw somebody by my bed holding what looked like my sketchbook... and my files. Well fuck. I kicked the door closed behind me. At the loud slam, Nick turned around, startled out of his skin

"Kurt." He was stark white and wide eyed, "Oh my God."

"Nick?" My heart dropped, "What the hell are you doing?"

Nick said nothing but dropped the flies and the book and held his hands up.

"Why are you looking through my things?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

"I swear! Kurt, I didn't mean to! Don't hurt me, please! Kurt I promise I didn't mean to-"

"How did you get in here?" I demanded, looking at the case files scattered across the floor.

"W-Wes let me in, so I didn't have to wait in the hallway." Nick stumbled, "W-what is all this, Kurt?"

Oh God, why? (Excuse my excessive spelling but) Whyyyyyyyyyyy? I felt my throat tightening and the unsettling feeling begin to churn in my stomach. What the hell? Really. I mean what the actual hell? Is nothing private here? Is nothing safe? Can a guy just lie and deceive large amounts of people and semi-stalk someone while carrying a barely authorized firearm without it turning into a big deal? Why couldn't anything ever be easy?

"They're victim profiles, and detailed murders." I sighed leaning against the door.

"Oh God." Nick began hyperventilating, "These people- t-the victims; they're the ones you sketch?"

"Yes." I shut my eyes, and reached back locking the door.

"Oh my God." Nick began to cry, "And- and you drew Blaine. You dated it 4 days before you even came here- before you even met him!"

"Yes." I whispered, my gun was jabbing me in the back now.

"You followed him here?" Nick's tears were falling freely.

"Yes." I shifted some more, but then figured 'what the hell?'. I mean Nick's already going to have know the full story anyway, so I might as well be comfortable. I pulled the gun out from my waist band.

"Oh my God!" Nick sobbed loudly, and grabbed onto the side of his head, "No! Please! Please, Kurt!"

"What?" I sighed tiredly, "Sit down, Nick." I gestured to the bed with my gun carelessly.

Nick sat down stiffly and sobs wracked his body.

"Please..." He whispered.

"'Please' what? Why are you crying, Nick?" I sat down in my desk chair.

"Because I don't want to be in the book." He cried.

"My sketchbook?" I deducted. Nick clenched his eyes shut and nodded.

"Why would you be in my sketchbook?" I kept my voice kind and calm.

"Because Blaine's in the book and you're gonna kill him." His voice was cracking horribly, "And you're gonna kill me and draw me too!"

"Nick, I want you to calm down, and then I'm gonna ask you something and I want you to give me the best answer you can, alright?" I soothed, placing the gun on my desk.

Through his hyperventilating, Nick nodded profusely.

"Good. Now what the hell are you talking about?" I asked clearly.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asked brokenly. My shoulders fell and leaned back.

"No, Nick. Why on earth would I kill you?" I asked sweetly. This poor boy was losing his mind.

"Because I know." He sounded so pathetically sad and teary. Only then did it hit me that Nick might not have put this information together quite right.

"And what is it you think you know, Nick?" I leaned forward.

"That you killed all those people. The ones in the files; the ones that you draw. I know that Blaine is next people you drew him too." Nick said almost incomprehensibly. Now that I think about it, had I been in Nick's position, I probably would have thought the same. Oddly enough, merciless serial killer is easier to believe that psychic.

"Nick, I want you to relax okay? I'm going to push the gun toward you so you feel safer, alright?" I did so, "And now I'm going to reach into my pocket and pull out something that's going to clear everything up." I began to dig into my pocket.

"I don't need money. I promise! I swear I won't tell anyone! Just, please-!"

"Nick, first of all, I'm broke. Second of all, I told you to relax, okay?" I pulled out my badge and held it out for him to take but he flinched away.

"It's alright, take it." I encouraged. He did so slowly with caution and examined it.

"That's my badge. I'm an agent. I work for homicide and missing persons. I'm a listed member of a team lead by Special Agent Roy Anderson." I cleared. Nick looked up at the name.

"Anderson? As in-"

"As in Blaine's father." I answered.

"I don't understand." Nick admitted regaining his composure, "Why are you here?"

I laughed under my breath, "Weren't you listening at lunch?"

"About the shampoo?" He shook his head.

"About Blaine's dad." I reminded, "He said Blaine was in danger, right? Said he needed protection?"

"Wait, I thought they were kidding." Nick whispered.

"They were, but Blaine's dad wasn't." I smirked.

"So... you're the bodyguard?" Nick connected finally.

"I prefer the term 'Guardian Angel' but, yes I guess undercover bodyguard is right." I leaned over to pick up the files and the papers scattered across the dorm.

"But why?" Nick urged

"Did you see the way Blaine reacted at lunch over just the idea of it? Of course I he can't know or he'd avoid me at all costs." After a moment of processing, Nick got down and helped me pick up all the pages.

"No, I mean why are you here? Did Mr. Anderson really hire a bodyguard based on what a psychic said?" He layered all the papers out of order on the desk.

"No, actually, I'm the one that begged him to let me do it." I admitted, retrieving.

"What? Why?" Nick reclaimed his seat on my bed.

I sighed and turned to face him, "Because I'm the psychic that told him Blaine is in danger."

Nick stared at me, and looked me over a dozen times before asking:

"What?"

"Nick," I sat flopped my arms to my sides, "I'm psychic."

"You're not serious." He decided.

"You don't believe in psychics?" I placed a hand on my hip.

"At this point, Kurt, I'd believe you if you told me you were a robot." He deadpanned, "but I mean- how? How are you psychic?"

"I... I know thinks I should know- Things I have no way of knowing. I see things that become reality before they happen."I surmised, and sat down on the bed next to Nick. I handed him my sketchbook.

"All of these drawings are of things I see. In visions or dreams. They all come true, and they correspond to the case files you found. Most of the time I try to find someone based on what I see, before it's too late." I flipped through the pages, "But when it is too late, I use what I see to find who did it."

"And... it works?" He disbelieved.

"It has so far." I acknowledged, "That's why I'm here."

"What's going to happen to Blaine?" Nick stopped on his portrait. I too stared down at it filled with dread.

"Nothing, if I can help it."

I'm not sure if it's surprising or not, but Nick became comfortable with the idea rather quickly. The only problem was his cut-time fired non-stop questions that I felt obligated to answer.

"Is your name really Kurt?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Almost seventeen."

"You actually transferred from a different school?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been doing this stuff?"

"Two and a half years."

"Have you ever fired a gun?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever killed anybody?"

"No."

"Is this why you're spending so much time with Blaine?"

That one made me stop.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, obviously it is. It's kind of your job, but he... I think he really likes you."

"Really?" I sat up.

"Of course. A lot of guys really like you, Kurt." Nick's cheeks blushed bright pink, "I guess I was just wonder since you and Blaine are... close, if you felt the same or if it was just because of your job. I mean, just... if it was because of your job, then... I was kind of hoping. Maybe you and I could... "

Suddenly it all clicked.

And I felt like a total douche. No. Kurt, you idiot! Of course Nick hadn't invited you to dinner with all the guys- it was supposed to be just him! And no, dumbass, he didn't say "Olive hue" after your sing along! He said-

"Oh... Wow, Nick."

"I-I'm sorry," He tensed up," I didn't mean to put you on the spot. It's just... I've kind of had a crush on you for a while, and I've wanted to ask you out, but then Blaine did before I got the chance..."

Sometimes in life we meet people who we really wish we could love, but don't.

We can't force ourselves to either. It's all just a giant puzzle, and our hearts are the pieces. Sure, you can try to jam a piece down where you think it belongs... We're you want it to belong, but if the rivets don't line up, it won't work. And you can pound it into the wrong place all you want but you'll just end up throwing off the rest of the puzzle and damaging the pieces.

Sometimes in life we meet people like Nick, who we want to love the way they love us, but we can't. I knew I'd never be able to return Nick's feelings to the same extent and he deserved better than that. So I did what any person with a heart would do.

I lied.

"Nick, I'm not trying to be in a relationship right now. I have far too much on my work front and school and my home life is just all over the place right now. It's not that I don't like you- I do but, I need to work this through with Blaine. I need to keep him close and safe, because I-" _Might be falling in love with him_, "-promised his dad that I would."

"I understand." He smiled sadly, "You're a really amazing guy, Kurt."

"You're incredible too, Nick." I squeezed his hand reassuringly, "Which is why I know I can trust you with my secret. That's one thing you have of me that Blaine doesn't. And I trust you to keep me safe in that regard, okay?"

"I won't let you down."

"No, I know you won't." I pulled him into a giant hug and let him hold on... just a little bit longer than a friend should.

* * *

_Awww, poor Nick. Show of hands, who else actually thought Nick would be better for Kurt than Blaine? (Sorry, I'm just not a huge Blaine fan, so, I tend to alter his character in my stories to make him more likable in my eyes :P) I haven't really checked yet, so I don't know if I'm cutting this chapter short or not, but I just want to space interesting chapters in between boring chapters. So, let me know what you think okay? You guys were so great with reviews on the last chapter which is why the next one got done so quickly :) Thanks for being so great, you guys! Hope to hear from you again!  
~holleigh_

_PS HAPPY FORTH OF JULY, EVERYBODY! Oh, and Happy Independence Day to all the Americans :)_


	13. Jerk

"Alright men, we have three upcoming performances to keep in our sights," Thad stood in his spot alongside David and Wes, facing the rest of the Warblers as a preacher to his congregation, "Our parent preview and more importantly, Regionals."

"There's more competition," Nick leaned to whisper in my ear, "We tied with McKinley's group at Sectionals. "

"I know, Nick." I whispered back. Nick pulled away to look at my face before he concluded.

"Oh, right." He whispered then tapped his temple with his index finger and mouthed the word "psychic". I stared at him for a moment. Yeah, it was really nice to have confided in someone and especially nice that he thinks it's the coolest thing ever but, I'm still not certain he knows quite how it works... even after I spent three hours trying to clarify it with him.

"My stepbrother's in New Directions." I corrected.

"Oh." He turned in slight disappointment.

"But, I'll let you know when something comes through." I whispered, patting his shoulder. His eyes lit up with a smile as he whispered back.

"You'll let me know when you, like, channeling in?"

I repressed a smile in hope to show my distance towards the comment, but it was no use. Nick somehow seemed to make light of everything, and given the subject material, that was no easy feat. Thad jabbered on about song suggestions he'd pulled from the suggestion box and scolded all of us for the hysterically clever (abite offensive) things drawn and written on the slips of paper as pranks. I leaned back into the couch and drifted off in my thoughts. Nick knew how important it was for me to at least feel like I was normal. He understood on many levels why I was shy in my new surroundings. Everyone needs a fresh start or two in their life. I just wanted this feeling of 'ordinary' to last a little longer.

His enthusiasm and interest borderlined annoyance but it was more than anyone else had ever offered and I suppose that left me in an awkward threshold of gratefulness and resentment. The kids in glee were never 'welcoming'. We were almost all outcast and yet we never ceased to treat each other like trash. Oddly enough even in a group designed for acceptance, there was still a social pyramid. Thing had gotten worse over the past year especially with Dad's health. The visions had become more powerful and frequent with all the new stress in my life. That on top of being tormented by jocks and hardly sleeping due to nightmares, I was having flashes nearly everyday. The more and more they happened, the more my 'friends' would drift away. I didn't realize it until I had a vision during a performance and Rachel knocked into me and pulled me out of it. She reamed on me for twenty minutes, and Mr. Shue would only join in to ask what was wrong with me or why I wasn't focused. I didn't have answers. I couldn't think of lies. I desperately looked to Finn for help, but he just gave me the only look he ever gave me- the "you make me uncomfortable and I'd rather not be associated with you" look.

"I just..." I sputtered in front of them, trying to answer Mr. Schue, "I'm not thinking straight."

"Oh please, Lady Hummel, like anything's eve straight with you." Santana scoffed.

"I mean, my head's just not in the right place." I restated.

"Maybe it's because you're crazy." Puck slurred.

"I-I'm not crazy." My heart dropped.

"Oh, come on. Finn talks about this kind of shit all the time." He spat.

"And after seeing what just happened, I can understand why. It's creepy as hell." Santana snorted, "Crap, I'd be scared you might stab me to death in my sleep."

I couldn't believe him. I'd never hurt Finn. All that ever happened was me having flashes at the dinner table and running to call Roy or me waking up screaming in the middle of the night. But Dad told me he'd explained it to Carole before they got married. He told me Carole had explained it all to Finn.

"Finn..." I looked him, and of course he didn't meet my eyes, "I'm not crazy!"

"That's what all crazy people say." Tina told Mike.

"Tina!" I begged.

"I think the proper term is mentally ill." Quinn corrected.

"I'm not crazy or mentally ill. What the hell is going on?" I raised my voice, "Mercedes, you're my best friend, back me up!"

A conflicted look crossed her face before she stepped up, "Listen, I know him better than any of ya'll and I know that the only reason he'd be wearin a straightjacket would be because he's bringing it back in style, but hell to the know he is not out his little white boy mind." He defended.

"Thank you." I sighed.

"But to be fair, Ivory, you were kinda trippin just then." She whispered, "We're gonna go get some water. But if I were you, I'd be practising that last step, Puckerman. If we don't start rehearsin, the judges at Sectionals are gonna think we're all out of our minds."

I quit glee after that. No love of singing was worth the humiliation of being mocked by the school's ragtag team of misfits. I still haven't had a real conversation with Finn. I try to steer clear for the most part. I stopped eating dinner at the table. I tried to vary my sleep schedule by taking naps at home while he was at football or glee and only sleep in twenty minute increments at night to avoid deep sleep and waking in terror from the visions they brought. I had tried to be normal and it sucked. At Dalton, I didn't have to try. Things were easier. I could sleep.

"-omething fresh and new that the judges haven't heard before. A new type of sound."

"Why not Kurt?" I heard from across the room. Immediately everyone's heads turned.

"Pardon?" Thad called. Blaine stood up from his seat.

"Well, let's be realistic. As much as I've enjoyed being the lead singer on out last... however many songs, I think we need to switch it up." There was a chorus of agreement from the section of the room where Jeff and Flint were sitting. Blaine chuckled, "Especially if we're trying for a fresh sound; something unique that the judges haven't heard before. Anyone can have a tenor sing lead but we have a countertenor. And amazing one at that. It's unique. Never done before in Warbler history. Why don't we have Kurt sing lead on a song? That'll grab the judge's attention."Blaine looked over to me to catch my expression (which, for those of you tuning in, was wide-eyed, terrified, and shaking my head as quickly as possible. Blaine simply smiled and nodded encouragingly. Oh, what the hell was he doing? I covered my face with my hand.

"I second that!" Nick stood up, but I quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

"Me too!" Trent raised his hand.

"Yeah, I like that." Another boy voiced.

"Taking down the competition with their own blood?" Someone laughed, "That maniacal and I totally think we should do it."

More and more voices spoke up to agree and with every one I sunk deeper into the couch until I was sure I wouldn't see like light of day until they revived "The Big Comfy Couch", and the clown girl pulled me out with a crane.

"Order!" Thad hit the gavel, "Order!"

The room quieted, and everyone sat down. Thad pulled Wes and David into a quiet huddle to discuss.

"Why don't you want to do it?" Nick leaned over to me.

"It's not that I don't want it, it's that I can't! I'm out of practice! I'd be too nervous and I, "I pulled him closer, "I've never done a solo before."

"Then I'll help you." Blaine's voice came from behind, scaring the bejeezus out of me.

"No, no, no, no." I turned to him, "I can't sing in front of you!"

"Why not?"

"B-because you're... you!" I fumbled.

"Kurt, I whole heartedly-"

"Attention!" Thad called and Blaine's never finished his words, "After discussing it, the council has actively considered the notion." He picked his gavel back up, "And the it passes." He banged it, "New Kid Kurt Hummel will be leading us in a number at Regionals."

There was a modest round of applause.

"Looks like you have no choice now." Nick whispered as Blaine patted me on the back and squeezed my shoulders in excitement.

* * *

"You're a jerk." I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, "I would have never done that to you."

"Oh come on," Blaine whined, "Do you know how many guys would kill for a solo at Regionals?"

"Do you know that I actually wasn't one of them?" I shot back.

"What? Why not?" Blaine sat back down on the couch and leaned back, waiting for an explanation.

"I get nervous." I sat down next to him, "Really nervous. I mean I can't stop shaking. My mind can be clear but my body just a glorified cocktail shaker."

"Why? I don't get it. What do you have to be nervous about?" He shifted.

"Oh, you name it. Screwing up under so much pressure, putting myself out there for people to judge me base on what I can do with my voice in a matter of minutes, throwing up, passing out, having a panic attack, take your pick." I slumped, also that horrifying reality that under all the stress, I'd wind up having a vision in front of an auditorium of people.

"Woah..." His eyebrows rose.

"And it's not something I can just overcome. It happens everytime I sing with an audience. The only thing that helps is when I can't see them." I confessed. Hell, why was it so easy to confess around him? It's a damn wonder how my cover wasn't already blown. He shot me a confused look, so I explained.

"You know, when you're on stage? And the lights are so bright you can't see anything and you feel so... solitary. It's just quiet." I shut my eyes and leaned back. Blaine said nothing, but I felt the cushions of the couch shift next to me. I assumed that Blaine was copying why position.

We sat there in silence until he broke it.

"Kurt?" He called.

"Hm?" I didn't move.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Volunteering me?" I snorted, keeping my eyes closed.

"Yeah. I was an idiot. I should have come to you first. I just- I knew-"

I opened my eyes finally,"Blaine, it's okay."

"I knew you were the best shot we had at winning, Kurt." He finished.

His face looked positively grievous, but with those safe warm eyes that filled with trust.

"The only shot we have." He retracted, "But I want you to be comfortable. That matters more than any more arrogance the Warblers could get by winning."

He hesitantly grabbed my hand and held it tight. My heart was pounding. His hands were warm and dry, and I was fairly certain mine were cold and clamy, but he didn't let go. We were holding hands.

"Then again if I don't do it, I'll never hear the end of it." I tilted my head in submission.

"Kurt you don't have to-"

"And let you have another solo?" I squeezed his hand, "Over my dead body."

Or, more timely- his. I swatted the thought away. Blaine giggled childishly.

"You sure you want to do this?" He checked.

"No." I admitted, "But life is supposed to be scary isn't it? Not knowing what's going to happen... It's kind of the best part."

He met my eyes, and shifted back and forth between both irises.

"Yeah. No use worrying about it." He agreed.

"Well, I didn't say that." I pulled my hand back with a mocking tone, "Knowing me, I probably won't sleep until Regionals. I'll spend every night worrying about it." I stood, holding onto my bag.

"No." Blaine stood up abruptly, "I mean, you shouldn't. I can help."

"What do you mean?" I cocked my head, intrigued.

"Dalton locks these doors at night, but I have a piano at home." He explained, "You can come over to my house. I help you practice so you can sleep tonight without having to worry."

He grinned like an idiot full of hope and wondrous innocence.

"And we'll have dinner." He added as an afterthought.

"You had me at dinner." I agreed without a second thought.

... Which certainly proved to be a horrible mistake later on.

* * *

**_How are we all? Good? Good. In news of my life, I deactivated my Facebook. Woohoo! And I refurbished a bistro table, so now my house looks like a restaurant. You can skip over this next part, it's just a letter of encouragement not to dreamers, but to philosophers and and thinkers. _**

_For the betterment of the minds of our society, I encourage all of you to take an hour to shut off your technology and reflect on who you are and who you want to be as a fellow human being. At the end of the day, a profile is not a person. "Friend" is the term that gets thrown around as uselessly as love. Thinking is the best thing in the world that you can do because believe it or not, you can't go through life only feeling and never thinking because you'll only feel hurt more often then you should. Keep your thoughts deep, and your heart guarded. _

**_Okay! So I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Yes, I had to add some "Out Of Character Blaine" to justify the romance to me. I have a little head cannon of "How Klaine Should Have Happened" and it involves Blaine actually not being a brat (sorry personal opinion) and actually trying to lift Kurt up. Any-who, I LOVED hearing from you last time! It really brightened my day and helped a bunch. So thank you to all who did review! I hope to hear from you again!_**

**_~Love Holleigh_**


	14. Home

"This is where your house?" I asked tantalized by damn-near mansion that lay before us as Blaine pulled into the long tile driveway, "You live here?"

The house was gorgeous from what I could see. It was one of those stone ones that had spotlights in the front lawn to light it up at night and candles in every window.

"Yeah," Blaine laughed parking the car and turning off the ignition, "Why so surprised."

Oh. Right. I'd forgotten. Dalton was probably the most expensive private school in all Ohio. I was one of the seven boys there on academic scholarship (and Roy using some funding under the table). But for all the other boys, this must have been the norm. I smiled sadly at the thought that Blaine might actually believe that I didn't live in a shoebox of a house, and that I bought my clothes from department stores at retail price and not from the thrift stores. I hadn't told Blaine anything about my blue collar father and our less than luxurious lifestyle.

"It's just... It's beautiful." I shrugged.

"Well, thank you." Blaine smiled pridefully, "Now, come inside! You're going to love the music room." He pushed open his door and hopped out.

Music room? Really? My house had two bedrooms. I lived in the basement. Then again my entire house was probably the size of Blaine's living room.

I toed off my shoes and tried to keep my jaw off the floor.

The place was immaculate- like model home. The ceilings had to have been at least twelve feet tall. I was only in the entryway and above me hung a gorgeous chandelier. It smelled like Roy- the artificial smell of "Spiced Pear" which I could now safely assume was by fault of the candles which were, as I soon found out, in every room.

"Why don't we start on dinner and while it's cooking, we'll practice?" Blaine suggested, taking my coat.

"Sounds perfect." I whispered, still agag with the beauty of the home. How did it look so untouched? "Are you sure they live here?"

"Yeah, why?" Blaine laughed and led me to the kitchen, which -shocker!- was ladened in granite tile and marble counters with state of the ae stainless steel appliances neatly aligned in their perfect spots.

"It's just so... perfect." I shrugged. I shrugged trying not to touch anything for fear that I'd soil it. Blaine on the other hand, sung open the fridge (which was disguised as ebony cabinet doors) and began removing ingredients.

"Oh, well I guess. No ones really ever here. Coop lives in California, I'm at school, and both my parents work." He shoved a piece of something into his mouth, "Honestly I think the cleaning lady spend more time here than we do." He joked. It was beginning to understand how Blaine could feel kind of lonely. A bigger house just gives you more empty rooms. Sure my family was constantly in each others way. We got irritated with the lack of space and when one of us was pissed, everyone was fully aware. But there was nowhere to run off to. A smaller house meant less space to run away from your problems. I began to think that maybe that's what I had done. I didn't talk to Finn much because I didn't have to now that I was at Dalton. Sure I called Dad and Carole as often as I could, but never once had I picked up the phone to call Finn.

"Kurt?" Blaine waved his hand, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just remembered that I have to call my brother later." I smiled.

"I should probably give mine a call too." Blaine mumbled, "But first things first," He held up a block of cheese, "Chicken Parmesan."

"Now we're getting somewhere." I laughed.

* * *

"You're doing it wrong."

"How do you do it wrong? I'm grating cheese!" I defended.

"That is not grating, that's pleasuring!" Blaine crossed his arms and judged me as I worked.

"If you think that's 'pleasuring,' I don't know what kind of sick sadistic relationships you've been in." I laughed. Blaine shook his head with a chuckle.

"Here, let me help you." He reached for the cheese grater.

"No!" I pulled away, "I can do it."

"You obviously can't, let me show you-"

"No!" I held it up over my head, "You let me have one job!"

"Yeah, and you suck at it! Let my help!" He cackled reaching on his toes.

"No! I will not be belittled by someone shorter than me!" I declared. Exasperation crossed Blaine's face, and I knew the tides had shifted.

"Oh you are so-" He lunged and grabbed me around my waist. I shrieked and held the grater out in away from me. Little did I know that the bastard plays dirty. He tickled my side and in a swift movement grabbed the other end of it. Still holding on, in a last ditch effort I swung my arm over my head to pull out of his grasp. Suddenly, I was nose to nose with Blaine Anderson. In fear that The moment wasn't long enough to decipher whether or not it was awkward. I let go as quickly as possible and Blaine dropped down off his toes, only recoiling about an inch and a half away from my face.

"Thank you." He smirked, and returned to my "cheese-grating station."

"Cheater." I grumbled crossing my arms. Blaine scoffed and looked over his shoulder at me. He winked with a smile and said nothing further. An uneasy, yet wonderful feeling disturbed me. My heart was a little tenser and I understood that Blaine was not going to let this be the end of it. The tension was set and all I could do was my best to ignore it.

* * *

"Are we finished, Oh Great Kitchen Tyrant?" I sarcased.

"Worry not, Incompetent Cheese Grater. We just need to let it cook." Blaine untied his apron after placing the chicken in the oven, "We'll get to practicing."

"Oh joy." I sighed.

"Will you relax? It's just me." Blaine grabbed my shoulders, "My parents are out on their 'Date Night', so they probably won't be back for a few hours. You don't have to worry about anyone hearing you, but me."

He dragged me by my wrist to the mythical "music room". "Music Room" doesn't even begin to describe it. It was almost a recording studio. There was a grand piano in the centre, and along the walls lined acoustic guitars. A cello slept softly in a corner next to the french horn at home in its case. One wall was a giant bookshelf filled with sheet music, vinyl records, and CD's. The drums sat tucked away under a sheet, and microphones were huddled at their side.

"What." It wasn't even a question that formed from my mind.

"My dad used to play in an Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, and my brother and I learned to play as well." Blaine explained, closing the door. I didn't even know Roy liked music. Roy didn't like anything.

"What about your mom?" I asked, walking into the piano. Oh dear lord, it was a Steinway.

"Oh, she can play "Chopsticks" like a pro." He jested. I laughed having hear all the stories about Tala, I felt like I knew her.

"What about you? Where did you learn to play?" Blaine leaned on the piano, as I traced my finger along the smooth surface.

"I had to spend a lot of my summers with my Dad at his garage when I was a kid. One day this music teacher didn't have enough money for a new transmission, and my dad made her a deal that he'd do it for free if she'd give my the piano lessons I'd been begging him for since I could talk." I recalled. Left out the part about Mom having taught me before she passed, and Dad having to work and keep me with him at the same time and needy me out of the way so he could work. "So... what song did you have in mind?" I changed the topic.

"Well," Blaine wandered over to his music library, "I don't know what Wes and the other guys are thinking, but I figured we could try this." He pulled out a copy of sheet music and held it up to me as he sauntered back over.

"Oh." I sighed as he handed me the music.

"You don't like it?" His eyebrows sank.

"No! No, I love it. That's why I'm nervous." I admitted. He smiled at me with eyes full of empathy.

"What if I say the first verse with you? Would that make you feel more comfortable?" He offered.

"Truthfully, I think it'll just intimidate me more. But would you please?" I pleaded. He sat down on the bench, thoughtfully.

"Do you know how to play this?" He asked. I looked down at the music to double check. Psh, I could play this with my eyes closed, so I nodded.

"Why?" I cocked my head and sat next to him.

"Well, you know how you said you sing best by yourself? Or when you can't see anyone?"

Damn my jinxing brain. So help me if this was where he was going with this...

"Yeah." I confirmed unsurely.

"Just close your eyes and pretend like I'm not here." He slid over more to let me have reign of the keys.

"Fine," I sighed nervously, "But you're singing the first verse, right? I'm gonna focus on the chords." I stared intently at the music I knew by heart.

"Don't worry. Just sing, okay?"

"Okay."

Hesitantly, I pressed on the first chord, and began to play through.

_"Hello world,_

_Hope you're listening_

_Forgive me if I'm young_

_For speaking out of turn."_

Blaine's voice was beautiful, so I sang as softly as I could so I could enjoy having that rich, warm and inviting tone close to me.

_"There's someone I've been missing_

_I think that they could be_

_The better half of me_

_They're in the wrong place trying to make it right_

_But I'm tired of justifying,"_

"Come on you're not singing!" Blaine nudged so I sang a bit louder to apease.

_"So I say to you.._

_Come home,_

_Come home,_

_Cause I've been waiting for you,_

_For so long,_

_For so long,_

_Right now there's a war between the vanities_

_But all I see is you and me_

_The fight for you is all I've ever known_

_So come home_

_Oh..."_

I felt Blaine shift next to me.

_"I get lost in the beauty_

_Of everything I see_

_The world ain't half as bad_

_As they paint it to be,"_

I tried to close my eyes but the kept flipping back open in distrust.

"Come on Kurt! Louder! I can't even hear you!" He was standing next to me now.

"I can't!_-the sons,_

_All the daughters_

_Stopped to take it in,_

_Well hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin."_

"Close your eyes!" He said, knowing that I was barely even singing the lyrics.

"I-I'm afraid I'll mess up."

"You're brilliant. Trust yourself." He encouraged and before I could argue, his warm hands were covering my eyes. I took a deep breath and started out soft.

_"Come home,_

_Come home,_

_Cause I've been waiting for you,_

_For so long,_

_For so long,"_

"Keep going." I hear him whisper so gently, and I grew louder and more confident.

_"Right now there's a war between the vanities_

_But all I see is you and me_

_The fight for you is all I've ever known_

_Ever known_

_So come home_

_Oh..."_

I cut the interlude and went right for the final chorus, not knowing how much longer I could do this without screwing up. I shut my eyes and just focused on my fingers and the music.

_"Come home,_

_Come home,_

_Cause I've been waiting for you_

_For so long,_

_For so long,_

_Right now there's a war between the vanities,_

_But all I see is you and me_

_The fight for you is all I've ever known,_

_Ever known_

_So come home,_

_Come home."_

I pressed down on the final chord and with my eyes still shut, I felt Blaine's hand fade away.I felt his presence no longer behind me but gently claiming his spot next to me. I softly opened my eyes and turned to meet his, slow enough so that I wouldn't wake up if this were a dream.

And ever so tenderly, his hand returned to my face and stroked my cheek bone. Everything felt numb. My mind was blank. Mildly, his hand cradled my cheek. My head tilted into his cradle and my eyes fell closed once more. Our lips met briefly for a moment, then paused as if uncertain, only to come back peacefully positive the second time.

The world could have exploded around me and I wouldn't have cared for a moment. There was fire- a connection that was possessing me in the most surreal way you may imagine. I didn't know for sure, but I could swear our hearts were in tandem. So when we pulled apart slowly and opened our eyes at last, everything felt in sync.

That deep hazel was what greeted me. Forever, I would associate them with the surge of comfort and virtue I had just felt. Quickly it became much too real, and I had to look away. The moment was hit on like radkil by the truck reality that came with the thought that this was Roy's son. I had just kissed Roy's son. This was wrong. I needed to get out of this.

"We," I coughed nervously, "We should practice." I excused, scratch the back of my neck and trying desperately to avoid looking at him, I knew I'd melt at the slightest glance.

There came a happy sigh and then, "I thought we were."

Fuck it.

I gave up, and turned to him, receiving a grin. Then without thinking, I pulled him into another kiss. This was less tender and more passionate, but Blaine came back with full force. Things got almost heavy enough to be defined as a make-out which would have been crazy amazing had my screwy brain not been screaming at me about how wrong it was like _'Stop it! What are you doing?'_

But good Lord, for once a boy for whom I was head over heels liked me too. Finally I'd found someone who made me happy. I wanted to be close to Blaine. Vision or no vision I wanted this more than I think I'd ever let myself.

But was I betraying him by not telling him the truth? This amazing boy who I was kissing right now, was he only here because he liked who I'd painted myself to be? Was I screwing the best friendship and potential relationship I'd ever had by building it on lies?

Holy shit, did just moan?

You know what? Screw my guilty conscious. I was doing nothing wrong! I'd never lied- only withheld holistic information. Was that so wrong? It couldn't have been if it felt this (here comes the cliche) _right._

"This is so wrong." I mumbled into his lips and went in for another kiss, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"W-what's wrong?" Blaine asked, not completely concerned with the answer but just pulling me back in.

"I..." We kissed, "Blaine I have to be honest with you." I finally composed myself long enough to pulled away and look at him.

"What?" He pulled back, looking almost hurt.

"I..." I swallowed hard. I had to tell him. This wasn't fair. "I-"

"Kurt?" His eyebrows sank in uncertainty.

"I- God, I just _really_ like you... _a lot_," I sighed.

"You mean, you _just_ like me? Like as a friend?" He cocked his head in confusion.

"No, I mean," I took his hands in mine, "I really _really_ care about you." I lifted my hand to cup his cheek. "I just really _need_ you to know that."

"Kurt?" His eyes dug into mine, and his hand touched my face to mirror mine.

"Yeah?" I whispered.

"I really _really_ care about you too." His tone was so genuine and true, I didn't doubt him for a moment. All my apprehension fled.

"Good." Was all I said and we leaned in for one more kiss.

And then the front door chimed as it opened.

Blaine turned away in confusion and went to the room's door to peek into the heart was pounding as I followed closely behind him.

"Mom, Dad... you're home..." He sort of greeted. He slowly walked into their line of sight, as I stayed behind only spying from the door.

"We were half an hour late, so the restaurant gave our reservations away." Roy's cool voice echoed in the house.

Right then, I looked around for a window to jump out of and run away.

* * *

_Hey guys. I'm sorry for the late update. It's just been kind of hard to keep writing these things after Cory's passing. If you've read some of my other stuff, you'll know I do a lot of Kurt-Finn brotherhood/ friendship, so obviously it hurts to know that I'll never get another scene of the two of them. I'll never see another happy Hudmel family. Writing from first person as Kurt, it almost feels like I've sort of lost a brother (as ridiculous as it sounds). Anyway, I guess what I'm say is it's a tough time for the fandom and I'm just trying to put as many happy endings as I can into my fics. Finn always reminded me of home, so I tried to pay homage to Finn in this chapter and hint that Kurt would reconcile with him.  
That being said, I think these scenes are the most romantic things I've ever tried to write. I'm pretty terrible at romance, so that's about as good as it gets... ladened with sap.  
I realize this chapter didn't progress things too much, but I'm kind of in a funk right now emotionally. I know how the story goes, I'm just no sure how to get to each chapter... I ugh I'm in such a rut._

_Let me know what you think?_

_~Holleigh_


	15. Uninvited

"_Totoy_, what are you doing home?" A thick (what must have been Filipino accent) asked.

"I was helping a friend with practicing for Warblers." Blaine supplied, "He has a solo and I told him I'd help."

"Oh... is he still here?" From what I could see Roy was hanging his coat.

"Um... actually yeah. I told him he could stay for dinner. It's in the oven.

"_Totoy_, is this a _kaibigan_ or a _kasintahan_?" I have no idea what that meant but her voice was so warm and sounded slightly excited.

"What? Aw, mom, it's- he's just a friend." Blaine tried to whisper, "Why do you always go there?"

"Forgive me. I want grandchildren!" Tala tapped his chin.

"Mom, I'm seventeen." He argued, rolling his eyes, "... Not to mention I'm gay."

"Is it that boy Wes?" Roy asked, moving closer to the kitchen, "He's you're African American friend right?" I turned back around in a last ditch effort to find somewhere to hide or escape. This was bad. Very bad.

"No Dad, that's David. And it's not either of them. You haven't met him." Blaine corrected. What if I just hid inside the piano? Would that work?

"Well where is he?" About to freaking die trying to crawl up a fireplace chimney, Roy.

"I want to meet him!" Tala swatted playfully at Blaine's arm.

"Um, actually Mom, he's pretty shy." Blaine excused, "That's why we came here, he's pretty nervous about singing in front of people... I'd imagine unexpectedly meeting someone parents wouldn't do much for his nerves either. Why didn't you guys just go somewhere else?"

"Oh, you know he doesn't go anywhere but _Alessandro's._" Tala sighed with irritation.

"I like it! I don't know why we need to go anywhere else, they have quite a varied menu." Roy defended, "What is this you're making?" He opened the oven. Oh, God, Roy shut up and go to Breadstix!

"Chicken Parmesan and there's not enough for four people." Frustration clearly flooded his voice, "Dad, why don't you take Mom somewhere new?

The bickering continued and I snuck back to the door to estimate how long of a distance it would be to run... not too bad. And with my stealth, all they'd ever hear is the door closing. But, could I really do that to Blaine? Run out on him right after that moment of whatever its was that we shared? Could I bring myself to possible abandon or - or hurt him?

Yep. I decided glancing back at Roy. Yes, I could.

In a daring move of spectacular cowardice, I slipped through the door.

The Andersons were all in the kitchen arguing of the the chicken parm and Roy's favor of familiarity.

I was almost certain that the pounding of my heart was loud enough for them to ear, but I was have way to the door.

"_Naku!_ There's your little _kaibigan, Totoy_!" Have not freaking clue what half of those words were, but I looked over my shoulder and sure enough it was Tala looking right at me. I should have known better than to try and out-ninja an Asian. Slugging my head in defeat, and turned around and made eye contact with Blaine who had mirrored his mother's position by poking his head around the door frame to see me.

"Oh, hey." Blaine greeting awkwardly. I looked around nervously hoping there was still a way o get out of this without Roy ever finding out.

"Hey," I said in a voice lower than usual, "Thanks for everything but it's getting really late and I should probably be getting back, but this was fun I'll see you at school." I rushed backing up, and groped behind me for the cold brass handle of the front door. I caught it. I was home free.

"Oh, no Kurt you don't have to-" It almost physically pained me to hear him say my name. I'f I could have shaken Blaine, I probably would have. Dread became a rock in my stomach when Roy (as expected) joined his family who had now gathered in the hall outside the kitchen at the sound of my name.

Not meaning to, I locked eyes with him as his look turned from confused to intrigued. Oh this was gonna suck. I sucked in a deep breath.

"You must be Blaine's parents?" I let go of the knob and walked towards the three of them with my hand extended, "It's nice to meet you. I- I'm Kurt." I gave aweary and nervous smile.

Roy, ever so slick, stepped up.

"It's nice to meet you, Kurt." He emphasized my name like a shard of broken glass, and shook my hand much to hard. I cocked my head only lightly enough for him to see and turned to Tala.

"Mrs. Anderson, I presume?" I smiled at her charmingly, "Blaine talks about you all the time."

She smiled but then playfully slapped Blaine on the arm

"Ow!' He winced.

"What are you saying about me to your friend, _Totoy_?"

"Nothing but wonderful things, I assure you!" I laughed and smiled genuinely, "And your house is simply beautiful." She turned to me with a big smile and 'awwed' fondly at me. Then again, she turned to Blaine and smacked him on the arm.

"Ow! What did I do?!" He protected his arm.

"He is a sweet boy! Why did you try to hide the darling from us?" She scolded unreasonable. Blaine simply shook his head in bafflement.

"You stay for dinner, okay?" She turned to me, "You're sweet boy. You get to be family now." She patted my cheek, "But you're too skinny. So I'm making you more food." She turned to head into the kitchen.

"Mom!" Blaine objected.

"Tala, Blaine's right. Maybe we should go."Roy actually tried to help me.

"No, _Mahal_, we stay. I want to know the sweet boy." Tala called from the kitchen.

"But, Mom!" Blaine urged, but Roy placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't argue with her, son, it will just make things worse." Roy sighed and turned to me mocking uncertainty, "Ken- was it?"

"Kurt." I corrected softly.

"Right..." He shifted quite awkwardly, "Blaine, do you want to get some drinks or help your mother?"

Blaine looked from Roy to me and sighed, "I really would rather not. Can you help Mom?"

"Blaine, she hasn't seen you in weeks. I'm sure she would love it if you took some time away from your friend to talk to her." His tone was a bit harsher and I had one of the moment where you wish you were a turtle so you could just hid inside yourself and not have to exist for the moment.

"But Dad, he's my guest! You and Mom come home and crash when we're trying to get work done, and now you want me to just leave him by himself? I love you guys but Kurt's really shy about this kind of stuff."

"What? Is he afraid we're going interrogate him?" Roy rolled his eyes. I kept quiet and suppressed myself from letting them though that they didn't really need to talk about me like I wasn't there. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you took a few minutes to greet your mother."

Roy looked back to me and locked eyes. That was when I realized what he was doing. He wanted to talk to me, and wanted Blaine out of the way so we could speak freely.

"I'm sorry about this, Kurt." Blaine apologized then pulled Roy away, "Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?"

The two of them disappeared behind a wall, and I stood there abandoned.

"Okay..." I said to no one, "So, I'll just get the drinks then..."

* * *

"I am so sorry about this." Blaine whispered as we sat down next to each other at the table.

"It's no trouble." I lied, "Besides, I love your mom. She's so sweet. I helped her with the food. She was telling me something about Filipino cuisine and how she grew up. I actually understood a surprisingly good portion of what she said. "

"Yeah, she tends to talk pretty fast especially when she takes a liking to someone." He nudged, "But I meant, I'm sorry about my dad."

Oh this was gonna be good. I feigned disbelief, "Really? How so?"

"I don't know. Just he's been really overbearing recently." Blaine unfolded his napkin and place it in his lap, "Like he doesn't trust me or my friends. He never used to really care, but now he's being kind of- I don't know... hostile."

"Oh I don't think so," I know so, "And hey, maybe he's just trying to reach out and show interest in your life." I offered positively.

Blaine scoffed, "You obviously don't know my dad."

I shook my head, "I obviously don't." I mumbled.

"So, Calvin," Roy pulled a chair out for his wife to sit after she placed an unnecessarily large sized bowl of rice on the table.

"It's Kurt, Dad." Blaine corrected, not even looking up.

"Right, my apologies. So Kurt," He sat down in his own chair across from me. God it was weird hearing him say my name. He never called me by my first name, "I can't say Blaine's told us much about you."

"There's a reason." Blaine grumbled.

"Oh, well... that's probably because there's not much to tell." I laughed nervously, "Um, I'm a transfer. I just started going to Dalton about a month ago."

"Talaga? Why so suddenly?" Tala reached for the salt.

"Oh," I faltered, "Just had um... straighten out my priorities."

"Priorities, _Mahal._" She playfully tapped Roy's shoulder, "The nice boy has priorities. You should learn from him."

"You've made your point." He grumbled sitting back.

"He spends too much time at work." She informed me.

"Right.." I brushed, "Actually, Mr. Anderson, I think Blaine told me you work for the police force or something?"

"Investigation Bureau, actually." He cleared his throat.

"Oh," I nodded dumbly, "So you're a detective?"

"A special agent." Blaine leaned closer to me, "But he still solves crimes and stuff."

I nodded, "And do you work, Mrs. Anderson?"

"Oo, I do. And you call me Tala, _Binata_, okay? No Mrs. Anderson- _peh_!" Tala beamed, "I have a salon on The Walk in downtown Marysville."

"Oh, yes. I believe I remember Blaine telling me about that." I nodded, "If your cooking is any demonstration of your work, I imagine your salon is the best in all Ohio."

She tapped the back of her hand, again, against Roy's shoulder, "Best in Ohio, _Mahal_. You hear him? He's a smart boy." She leaned back over to me, "You teacher him to say nice things like that and I pay you." She joked. I laughed along with her. I understood why she and Carole got along so well, hell they probably acted just like sister.

"Blaine, tell us about school! You don't call!" She changed subject half a second later.

"I call you everyday, Mom." Blaine defended.

"Well, you don't call enough!" She continued to try and pull information out of him. Blaine began explaining our history project and the Warblers arrangements. Roy, however was trying to subtly catch my attention. He mouthed something but I couldn't make it out. Trying not to draw attention to us, I shot him a confused look. Roy rolled his eyes and bit his lip. He kicked me in the shin. I let out a small grunt and glared at him. He picked up his spoon and dropped it on the floor. The clattering caught the attention of Tala and Blaine as they looked over at us.

"I dropped my spoon." Roy cleared his throat, "It landed on your side." I took the hint and bent down under the table and there by the spoon was a white folded up piece of paper.

"Would you mind picking it up for me, Hummel?"

Oh God, did he just say-

I flung my head up to look at him... well, I tried to but I was still under the table and I ended up just hitting my head.

I'm pretty sure I heard a glass fall over from the impact.

"Ow." I groaned involuntarily.

"Oh my God! Kurt? You okay?" Blaine hand landed on my back. With one hand on my head, I used the other to grab the spoon and sat back up.

"I'm fine." I assured. Blaine grabbed my hand to check for blood, though I'm certain there was none.

"Why are you banging your head on the table for?" Tala asked concerned.

"It was an accident." I tried to smile and laugh but I was overwhelmed with an impending headache.

"Roy, what did you call him to make him upset enough to want to throw his head against the table?" She scolded.

"I- I didn't-" Roy sputtered. I notices Blaine's grasp on my wrist loosen.

"Wait... Dad, how did you know his last name?" Blaine inquired suspiciously. I opened my eyes to see Roy floundering for an explanation. I had to help him out.

"I- I'm just surprised you remembered me!" I pulled Blaine's hand away from my head and made him sit, "I knew you looked familiar! I remember you brought your car in for a tune up, and we short staffed so I did it. That's where we met before. Wow, you have a really good memory!" I completely bullshited. Roy, looking relieved nodded.

"Yeah. The black Mercedes." He took a sip and explained it from there, "You see- and Kurt, stop me if I'm wrong- but Kurt's father owns a car garage," I saw Roy place his hand over Tala's making subtle but deep eye contact with her, "-for maintenance and such. I got stuck out at work one day and Kurt fixed it right up for me! He's quite skilled."

I smiled at the complement. Whether or not Roy was full of it, I remember the day we got stuck out in the rain on a case and, indeed, had to fix the ignition in the pouring rain.

"You never told me that your Dad owns a garage." Blaine looked at me impressed, "Or that you're a mechanic! That's incredible!"

"What's the garage called, Roy?" Tala asked with furrowed eyebrows. She was suspicious. Roy must have told her before about me and my Dad. Moreover, she must have been piecing it together that I was one of the sons Carole talked about and the psychic teenager that accompanied her husband on countless expeditions. I was the same Kurt she'd known only through word of mouth.

"Hummel's Tires and Lube." Roy said carefully. His hand wrapped tightly around hers as if trying to brace the impact and keep it cool as he suspicions were confirmed. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing but "Ay!"

Roy nodded and she turned to me with an amazing look. "So, you're the Hummel son!"

"I am." I nodded.

"How neat! That is why you are sweet boy!" She beamed, "Blaine he's a very nice boy. You be a good friend to him!"

There was relief, but my stress was still high and my head was still pounding. I'm quite surprise my brain wasn't bruised. However, Blaine was smiling a bit more which was nice. Roy bent under the table and came back up. Quickly and swiftly, he shoved the piece of paper into my hand as Tala reminded Blaine of the time he and his father fixed up a car one summer.

I shoved the note into my pocket, but Roy quickly mouthed 'Read it' .

I kept checking over my shoulder to make sure Blaine wasn't watching, and I unfolded it.

I frowned when I saw that it was only a name.

_"Yaroslav Revinski"_

Yaroslav Revinski. It was familiar. I repeated in my head as I shoved the paper back into my pocket. I knew that name. Why did I know that na-

I hate Roy. God I wanted to punch him in the face. Like that idiot had no clue that certain things like names can trigger my visions. There I was. Mentally gone from the Earth in the middle of dinner sitting next to my dream boy who would probably flip if he ever knew I was a psychic... or an agent... or his body guard. But there was no helping it now. I was gone in the haze of the vision.

_I was on the concrete floor of a cold damp cellar. Everything hurt and my eyes could barely stay open. Something was binding my arms over my head as I lay there lifelessly on the floor. One of them men I recognized from my other visions was on the other side of the cellar on his cellular. He hung up angrily and looked over at me with horribly menacing and unforgiving eyes. Tears and blood were staining my face and tromped over towards me. I was shaking in fear as he very effortlessly placed his giant boot on my throat and pressed down. I couldn't scream- only stare at his face as the name rang in my head._

_"Yarolsav Revinski"_

_Revinski..._

"Kurt!" I honestly couldn't tell if it was Blaine or Roy calling my this time, but little by little I became more away that I was being shaken by the shoulder.

"Blaine, he's okay just let him be." That was definitely Roy.

"How do you know?" Blaine's voice sounded panicked.

"I-I've got a buddy at work. The same thing happens to him all the time. Just give him some space." Roy soothed.

"What is it? What happens?" Blaine demanded. Suddenly able to blink and see again but unable to see.

"It's sort of an Apnea thing. Almost like the wind getting knocked out of you and you can't really think or breath for a few seconds." He made up, and almost on cue I was gasping for breath and coughing like a coal miner.

"Kurt?" Blaine turned back to me.

"Blaine, what did I say?" Roy got out of his seat and helped my out of my chair. I was in no mind to argue with him, "Stay here, I'm taking him to the kitchen to get him some water and some space."

Blaine said nothing further. Tala reached out and grabbed him by the wrist and told him to sit down before he tried to follow us into the kitchen. Roy led me right to the sink and turned on the faucet. I hunched over, still coughing fiercely. I braced myself against the counter with one hand and used the other to splash myself with water. Roy handed me a glass which I quickly guzzled and handed back to him. Breathing came easier.

"How're you doing?" He asked.

"Back away." I told him, glaring in the sink.

"Why?" He furrowed his thick caterpillar-esque eyebrows.

"Cause I'm gonna punch you in your stupid face." I growled lowly, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you give me that at _the table?_ You know how easily that stuff sets me off!"

"You said that you'd been having less lately! I didn't think-" He defended himself, "And since when can you have a vision by reading a name?"

"Roy, when I'm stressed, anything's possible." I snipped, "It's your fault for not sending me a care package like you promised, you big tree."

"My apologies. I'll get right on that." He held up his hands in defeat, "Tell me what you saw."

"I saw you." I panted, filling my glass with water again.

"Me?" Roy leaned in. I nodded.

"Yes, going to hell." I took a sip. Roy snatched the glass out of my hand.

"I'm serious." He scorned, "Tell me before it fades. Do you need paper and pen?"

"No," I sighed, "There wasn't much to this one. You know, except me fighting for my life- I'm fine by the way."

Roy rolled his eyes.

"It was Yaroslav Revinski."

"There's no evidence besides the description you gave me, but I think he's a link to the string of homicides." Roy muttered quietly.

"Oh really, Anderson? You think? He's a link? Because from what I've seen he murdered Sandra Gullin in cold blood and from what I just saw he hasn't has his fill. I don't see everything that happens but I know that if we want this to stop, catching him is the way to do it. But I don't think he's a link. I think he's the dependant variable." I said under my breath.

"We need to get back in there." Roy cocked his head towards the dining room, "Blaine will get suspicious if he isn't already."

"Anderson," I halted him, "There's one more thing."

Roy turned to look down at me and crossed his arms.

"I had another vision at school. It was blurry so I'm not certain, but... I think Revinski is tied into Blaine's case too." I said gently, knowing how sensitive this was for him. His face, however, remained stone as he said, "I'll get right on that. But, I need you to tell me something."

"What?" I asked.

"Where you and Blaine really singing?" He asked in all seriousness.

"Of course." I cocked my head, "What else would have been doing?"

I turned and left the room smirking to myself. Like, Roy needed to know that Blaine held my hand under the table the rest of the night, or that when Blaine drove us back to Dalton that he walk me to my dorm and kissed me goodnight when no one was looking. Roy didn't need to know that I was falling in love with his son.

* * *

_Sorry for the delay, guys... This have been rough and I dont think've got my head on straight. I had to go back and re-write this chapter because it wasn't working and it's even still not at the caliber I want it to be at but what can I do? *Le sigh* I don't know Filipino. I have no idea if any of that is right or what, so if you are Filipino dont hate me, I didn't mean to dishonor your language. Anyway so... yeah that 's all i got for this week. I really hope to hear from you guys. So, as always, please review. _

_Till then,_

_~Holleigh._


	16. The Nick Kick Maneuver

"You _what?!_" Nick bounced on my bed like a jittery school girl who was hearing the latest gossip.

"Shh!" I hushed him and tried to keep him still, "Not so loud!"

"You had a vision in front of his parents?!" Nick tried to whisper and leaned in, "What did Roy do?"

"Well," I grabbed a pita chip from the bag and leaned back against my pillow, "To his credit he covered it quite well. He said I have some sort of apnea, I think." I tossed the chip in my mouth, "Something about my brain forgetting to breath or something..."

"Oh man! Did Blaine notice? Do you think he's suspicious?" Nick grabbed a chip and leaned against the wall my bed was pressed against. He wrapped his arms around the pillow and held it in his lap.

"I really don't know. If he looks up the apnea thing, I'm sure that might raise a few questions." I sighed, "But to be honest? I really don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

I leaned over and grabbed my sketchbook out of my drawer.

"What do you mean?" Nick asked with a mouth full of chips.

"I mean," I flipped open a page, "I just hate lying to him. On the one hand, it's for his own protection. On the other, maybe he'd be even safer if he knew. But back to the first hand, I don't want him to know about me being... well-"

"A super-psychic-secret-agent? Yeah I get ya, that's not sexy at all." He rolled his eyes.

i laughed at that, "More batshit crazy than sexy, really."

"So why don't you tell him?" Nick laid his head on the pillow in his arms.

"Cause what if he doesn't... like me after he knows?" I slung my head to the other side to look at him.

"Then..." He shrugged, "Don't stop the bullet."

"Nick!" I pulled the pillow out from under his head and hit him with it.

"Ow! What?" He held his arms up in defence, "If he rejects you, then he loses you and all the supernatural perks you come with!"

"I can't let him die because he changed his mind." I handed Nick back the pillow.

"Honestly, Kurt-"

"I'm not going to do that Nick!" I cut him off.

"No- no listen to me. Honestly, if one thing can completely change the way he feels about you, then why on Earth is he worth your time? If someone loves you, they've got to love all of you. Never settle for anything less. If Blaine can't handle you being extraordinary, then he better step aside because there's a line backed up three miles long of guys waiting to take his place." Nick took my hand, " Point is, if you want this to work; if you want someone to love you, then you can't hide yourself, Kurt. Be every kind of wonderful you are and let them see if they take it. Don't back out because you're afraid that you'll shine too brightly. For good or bad, you have to give them a chance to come through for you. Some people might surprise you."

"Is that what you think about?" I asked quietly, "When you stare out the window during English, is that what you think about?"

"No," He smiled, "That's what I think about when I look at you."

Like I said, sometimes in life we meet people who we really wish we could love. So much so that moments like these can reminds us that there can still be heartbreak, where there be no heart.

* * *

The rest of the week passed. I spent most of my moments contemplating telling Blaine. Sometimes, I would even scribble out a pros and cons list in my notebook. I did like Dalton, but I missed my dad. I missed my family. I missed my home. I wanted to fix things. I wanted to go home and face my demons, but who's to say that more demons wouldn't fall out of the woodwork if my secret were to expose to my friends here- if the Warblers became the New Directions and all agreed that I was mentally unstable and were overly cautious around me. If Blaine were to laugh at me or shun me, I don't think I could take that. But Nick's reason, kept singing in my head like a music box. He was right, I knew. I pulled out my phone during break to text Blaine, when serendipitously, it vibrated in my hand with a call from Roy.

"Hey." I answered, "What's up?"

_"Good news and bad news. What do you want first?"_

"Um... hit me with the bad and then cheer me up with something good." I chose.

_"The bad news is you sound like a hoodlum when you answer the phone."_

"Do I even want to hear the good news, or did you just call to make fun of me?" I rolled my eyes.

_"The good news is we got him."_

"Got who?" I asked quietly.

_"We found Yaroslav Revinski in an abandoned factory a few miles out of town. I was gonna call you the other night, but we went out celebrating. Turns out he was the source of the worst Russian Mafia organization this region's ever seen. When we got to the factory, Revinski had a few buddies with him, a couple of them got away but we don't think they're going to be a problem without their leader. We got Revinski!"_ He boasted.

"So you're going to take him into questioning so you can tell me that I was right?" I smirked.

_"Well, that's where the actual bad new comes into play." Roy sighed, "Revinski was on the the run to escape and I chased after him but I had to shoot. I did my best but ambulance wasn't fast enough. Hummel, he's dead."_

"Oh..." Was all I could think to say.

_"But, on the upside, the threat's neuralized, and if everything checks out, you'll be home at the end of the week. Hurray."_

"Really?" I leaned against the wall forgetting that my gun was still tucked into my pants against the small of my back, "And he fit the description I gave you? The sketch?"

_"To a 'T'."_ Roy's voice sounded light and certain, _"You did good work."_

"Thanks..." I sighed oddly saddened by the relief, "I... I guess I should start packing, huh?"

_"I'd say so."_ Roy agreed at the other end of the line, _"Everything can go back to normal now."_

"Like I've ever known what 'normal' is." I snorted.

_"I saved you a piece of celebration cake."_ Damn, did Roy sound chipper.

"Well thank you, Anderson. But I'm not one for cake."

_"Oh.. well, good because the maid ate it."_

"Oh, joy." I exasperated.

_"No, her name's Eva."_ He corrected, misunderstanding.

"Well wonderful. My work is done, so I'll just get back to class now..." I hung up.

Home by the end of the week... Leaving Dalton...

Leaving Blaine.

My heart sank.

Yeah, okay "woohoo!" his life wasn't in danger any more, but let me be selfish here for a moment. Blaine didn't need me anymore. Blaine would never have to know about me...

But he still should.

If he never knew, then neither would I.

I kept my phone out and quickly typed out: "I need to talk to you" I hit send. After a moment of miniscule debate I added, "After Warbler rehearsal."

A moment later he wrote back, "Sure. Is something wrong?"

_"No :) "_ Actually, _"everything's"_ going to be _"okay"_ now.

* * *

"Here, I saved you a seat." Blaine moved his books beside him off the couch. I sat down in their spot. As usual, Thad, Wes, and David called the meeting to order. Not that any of us really listened. Most of the boys were on their phones, and the others were making faces at each other. Blaine, however, leaned over to me.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" He asked quietly.

_"Oh, nothing really. Just wanted to let you know that I'm a psychic special agent. That cool?"_ I held my tongue and exchanged it for, "I'll tell you after rehearsal." I smiled. Blaine nodded uncertainly. I reached over and held his hand to reassure him.

The meeting progressed and we ran our group number of "Sir Duke" by Stevie Wonder over and over because Wes was not yet satisfied. Jeff threatened to blind Wes worse than Stevie if he said the word 'unsatisfactory' one more time. Everyone was laughing so hard at the mini feud that they didn't even notice when a tall angry look man dressed in a work suit entered the room. The room quieted to the point of eeriness. Something about this guy... wait. Hadn't this happened before?

"Excuse me sir, but this is a closed rehearsal. Can I help you?" Thad crossed his arms. The man glared at him and then scanned the rest of us with his piercing eyes.

"Which one of you is Anderson?" He asking in a thick accent. I could have laughed, it almost sounded Russia-

Oh fuck.

"Me!" I jumped up to the front before Blaine could, "I'm Anderson!" I raised my hand.

"No," The man growled.

"Kurt, what are you doing?" Blaine pushed through the crowd and ended up on my side, creating a triangle between the three of us.

"Blaine, no- Don't-" I begged.

The man looked sneered at Blaine, as if something clicked, "You are the one."

"Excuse me?" Blaine laughed as the man reached to his side. I knew what he was doing, but I was faster. I threw my arm back and pulled my gun out. The room gasped, and a couple of the guys screamed.

"Federal Agent! Drop your weapon!" I demanded.

"What the fuck-?" The man turned to me in confusion.

"Drop it!" I yelled sternly in hopes it would drown out the sound of my heart beating on my chest.

"You little shit." He pointed the gun at me, but I dropped down throwing my leg up and kicking it out of his hand. Unfortunately he wasn't as slow as he looked. He grabbed my leg and through me aside. My gun slid out of my hand and skidded to the other side of the room. The man darted after it, but I recovered quickly and tackled him to the ground. I punched him in the face, but he grabbed me by the neck and held me down. He landed a punched right to my nose and it proceeded to bleed like a motherfucker. I struggled against him, but punch after punch he landed on my face I wasn't sure I was going to hold up against him. Between blows, I saw out of the corner of my eye one of the boys trying to hide right where my gun had slid. Not just any boy- Nick!

"Nick!" I yelled and clawed at the giant man's arms, "Help me out here!" I pleaded

Nick looked terrified.

"Nick, please!" I begged, "I need your help! Kick the gun over!"

It clicked. I saw it click. Nick face filled with determination. He stuck his leg out and swiftly kick my revolver right into my hand. Mustering my strength, I rolled on back on my spin and pressed my foot to the Russian's chest and kicked him off me. Then, from my sitting position I aimed for his hip and leg and fired. I breathed in deeply as the man fell to the ground howling in pain. I got up and stagger over to him and knelt on his chest,

"Tell me who you are!" I pressed the gun against his head.

"Хуй тебе!" He shouted at me.

"You're gonna get three tries before I blow your fucking head off, so if I were you, I'd start speaking English." I warned, grabbing him by the collar.

"Tell me who you are." I said more calmly than the first time.

"сика!" He grabbed my throat. I serenely fired another shot into his arm.

"Срань!" He screamed.

"That's two." I reminded gently, "Now, you wanna cooperate?" I returned the gun to his head.

"Идти ебать себя." He hissed. Disappointed, I nodded understandingly and shrugged. He shut his eyes.

"Three." I let go of the gun, pulled back my fist back and landed it in the middle of his face. His head hit the floor behind him and he was out like a light. I breathed out finally and evaluated. He wouldn't be coming around for a while. I got off the incapacitated man's body and picked up my got as I got to my feet. I turned around and looked at the small crowd of boys who were huddled in various groups, terrified... Except for Flint who had his phone out filming the whole thing. No one said anything as I stood there. I looked over to Nick who motioned that I had something on my face.

_Blood._

I remembered, and wiped it away with my sleeve.

"Kurt?" I heard a terrified voice call. I looked over and saw Blaine huddled close to David.

"Oh... Well this," I gestured to the lifeless body with my gun, "Is what I meant to talk to you about earlier."

* * *

_Well... I can't believe I'm saying this but I think I'm actually becoming a Kick/Kurck shipper (name tba). I hate MYSLEF for not making it endgame! (boo, holleigh). Anyway. This is not by any means the climax or the end. There is still lots more to come but it's been a down weak so I thought I'd speed up the story a bit. (I'm off to college in two weeks. I hope to be done by then!) please please please review! _

_~Holleigh _

_(ps I apologize to any Russians) _


	17. Ready or Knot

Blaine said nothing. How would he? His jaw was somewhere on the floor. In fact, the whole room was still silent, but as I scanned the room I saw a couple of the boys had tears on their face. And who could blame them? Hell, why wasn't I crying? Was it the adrenaline? I was terrified and shaking... and a little hungry, but there was a comatosed homicidal Russian at my feet.

"Talk about Russian Rullet, right?" I laughed nervously. Nobody laughed, and good that they didn't. This wasn't funny, there was nothing funny about this.

You know how some people have a nervous tic? Like they laugh a lot, or they talk in an accent or they gestured too much. Well, when I'm nervous, I sometimes turn into a bit of a showman. I trend to make light of rather heavy situations. I have trouble keeping it in check. "Pretty shocking. I get it. I mean, hell, I'm psychic and I didn't even see it coming!" I laughed. No one else did. There was just a horribly dead and ghastly silence.

"Guys! Guys!" Nick jumped up and tiptoed over to me, "It's not as crazy as it seems. Kurt is just a very sexy psychic secret agent with incredible hair."

"That's not helping, Nick." I raked my fingers across my scalp.

"Just show them your badge." He suggested.

"Oh right, good call."I whispered, "I'll do that, you got get the other gun, okay?" Nick nodded and scurried to the direction it had been thrown. I shoved the gun already in my hand into my waistband, and dug around in my pocket to pull out my badge.

"Like I said," I held up my badge and displayed it panarama, "I'm a federal agent. I have a permit to carry this gun."

No one said a word and this were just marinating in the awkward uneasiness. Nick also remained silent as he handed me my original gun.

"What do you mean?" It was Blaine who asked so quietly. I looked over at him and felt my heart break from the prevalent fear etched in his features.

"I mean," I swallowed down hard, "We gotta go." I flipped the gun around like a pair of scissors and held the handle out for him to take. Blaine looked down at it but made no move to take it from me.

"Take it." I instructed him in case he didn't understand, but I knew he did.

"Why?" He asked looking up at me with those big weary eyes.

"Because you're gonna need it."I assured him with sympathetic eyes.

"What do you mean? How do you know? What's going on?!" He became more frantic and on the verge of tears with every question.

"I really can't say, Blaine. I promise I'll answer all your questions in the car, but right now in the interest of your life and mine, please Blaine, just take the damn gun." I pleaded, trying to remain calm. His hand trembling and quaking with every muscle, he finally took the handle. He swallowed roughly, and took an audible breath to calm himself down.

"Hey," I whispered and daringly touched my finger under his chin and tilted his head up to look at me, "Everything's gonna be okay. I'll protect you."

Blaine bit his lip and barely nodded.

Behind me, the Russian groaned and grunted slightly and a low russaks of concern chorused amongst the boys. I looked down at the man, having no idea what to do. I didn't have much time. If he was one of the mobsters like Revinksi, then he certainly wasn't alone. And his friends probably weren't far behind.

"Nick," I called him over.

"Yes, Capitan?" He stood close to me.

"Are you good with knots?" I asked hopefully.

"What kind are we talking? Garlic or like tying?" He asked completely serious.

"Nick." I shot him a look.

"Yes, I was in Boy Scouts. I learn all the ropes and knots." He assured, "And not to brag but I was the first kid in my kindergarten class to learn how to tie his shoes."

"Nick, words cannot describe how much I would like to care but don't right now. Can you gather everyone's shoe laces, tie them together, and then tie this guy to a chair until the police get here?" I planned. Nick smirked and grabbed his foot to lift it up to my face.

"See these shoes? I tied them three years ago and haven't untied them since." He boasted.

"That is so gross and vaguely reassuring." I eyed his shoes, "You can do this?"

"Would I let you down?" He put his foot back down. No, I knew by looking at his face. Nick would sooner renounce his title as an Eagle Scout than let me down. I pulled Nick into a quick but tight hug.

"You're the best, Nick." He hugged back just as tight.

"Anything for you." He whispered, and I pulled away, "Now take Blaine and get out of here."

"Right." I nodded, "Rasputin shouldn't be much of a problem he's out cold and wounded in two spots. If he does give you trouble hit him in the head, oaky? Get one of the boys to call the cops. I have to get Blaine out of here. I'll call Roy in the car." He confirmed with a nod.

"Everyone give me your shoe laces!" He demanded to the room. Smiling slightly, I went to Blaine.

"Hey, New Kid?" He called after me. I turned around and locked eyes with him, "Please be safe."

"Nick," I breathed heavily, "If it weren't for you, I never would have made it this far-"

"I know, I'm awesome now go!" He cut me off. I let out a laugh and mouthed a quiet 'Thank you'. He gave a small smile and nodded, and turned back to the crowd of boys manhandling their shoes.

I grabbed my gun and led Blaine out the door by the shoulder.

I hoped to God that wasn't the last time I'd see Nick.

* * *

_Surprise mini-chapter update! I just wanted to wish everyone a happy weekend and surprise you with a mini-chapter as a thank you to all who reviewed :) You guys are seriously the best! I'm working on a longer one to be posted in a few short days, so stay tuned! _

_(and yes, even though this is a Klaine story, I totally ship Nick/Kurt. At the beginning, I was gonna kill Nick off towards the end, but now I like him too much and I don't think I can bring myself to do it.. D: Thoughts?)_

_Happy Starlight, my lovelies!_

_~Holleigh_


	18. The Heart Of Love

_"You've reached the voice inbox of "Roy Anderson". At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press 1 for more options. To leave a callback number press 5."_

_Beep._

"Roy, if I live through this, I am going to kill you." I growled at the phone leaving the 4th voicemail in a row. I dialed one more time. 5th times the charm.

"You've reached the voice inbox of-"

"Sonofabitch! Roy, answer your goddamn phone!" I hung up and threw the phone to the dashboard in frustration. My knuckles turned white as I gripped onto the steering wheel.

Roy wasn't answering his phone. Blaine was still shaking in the seat next to me, whether it was from the chill from his blazer that had been soaked in rain on the way to the car. He was trying desperately to hold it together... as was I, I suppose.

_"Drive,"_ I told myself, _"Just drive and figure out where you're going on the way."_

I took a random left, hoping Blaine wouldn't notice the lack any identified of direction.

"How do you have my dad's number?" was the first thing Blaine had said after we'd left the chorus room.

"You hungry?" I countered, "We could pick something up if you want."

"Kurt, all I want are answers." He tears were brimming his eyes.

"Yeah," I kept my eyes on the road, "Yeah, I know."

"You said you'd tell me everything in the car."

"Fine," I pulled the car onto the shoulder of the highway, "You want answers? I'll tell you everything, but before I say a damn thing I need two things."

He glanced over to me as if to inquire.

"One, I need you to swear to me that until everything is sorted out, you will not leave my sight. Don't jump out of the car and walk away because you're angry or you don't understand. Don't go where I can't follow. It may not mean much to you, but I made a promise to your dad, and I'm gonna keep it or I will die trying. So promise me." I tried to sound strong over the sound of the rain thudding against the car.

Blaine's stare shifted between my eyes, trying to scrutinize.

"I promise." His voice cracked, "What's the other thing?"

"I need you to know that everything- everything I said, I meant and everything I felt was real. And I never ever want to hurt you." I took his hand.

"Kurt, what are you talking about?" Finally he broke and the tears were streaming.

"J-Just tell me you know." I needed to hear him say it before I told him anything.

"Fine! I know." He cried, "Now Jesus, Kurt, tell me what's going on!"

I sighed, feeling the pricking of my own tears at the back of my eyes.

"I've worked with your dad for a few years. A couple months ago, something... something _happened_ and your dad and I thought it would be best if I came to Dalton to keep an eye on you. To protect you."

"P-protect me? Protect me from what?" The car shook as a Toyota sped past us, "And why you?"

"That's not important. What's important is someone either was or still is trying to kill you, Blaine. " I said more harshly than I meant to.

"Who?" He pressed, "Why?"

"I-I don't know!"

"Wait, so if you don't know who, how did anyone know, before this whole fiasco started that someone is trying to kill me?"

"B-Because they are!" I tried to reason.

"How do you know?" He argued. This was useless, I might as well just have gone for gold.

"Because I saw it, okay?!" I sat back in my seat and another car zoomed past us.

"... you saw it? What does that even m-"

"That psychic your dad works with... The one you don't believe in," I sighed and shut my eyes, "It's me."

There was brief pause. The only comfort I had was that Blaine had promised not to run off on me.

"This is ridiculous." He muttered disbelievingly. Really, what could I have expected. Blaine would scoff and roll his eyes and all I could do was try to hold it together and be stronger than the hurt that spread through my gut.

"Fine. You know what? That's fine. If you don't want to believe me then don't. Just thought you might be a little bit more understanding seeing as I just got my face beaten in by a Russian man, while saving your life." I scorned, "You're welcome by the way."

Blaine didn't thank me. No, he said nothing.

"Kurt?" He leaned over to look at me, "Kurt."

I silently turned away from him. My heart was broken and I really didn't want to deal with him right now.

"I don't know what gives you the right to get mad at me, Kurt. This is all so stupid, I can't beleive you expect me to believe- " He stopped mid sentence once he met my eyes and the restarted, "I'm sorry but none of this is making sense. You sound like a-a crazy person!"

At that moment, I snapped, "I'm going to say this once and only once, do you understand? I am not crazy. And if I were you, I'd be a little bit kinder to someone whose only goal is to save my life. If I were you, I'd feel that I'd owe them that little bit of courtesy."

Blaine blinked once, then twice as if he was taking in what I'd said, "You're not serious, are you?"

"No, Blaine, I thought hiring a big angry Russian guy to try to kill you and kick my ass would be a fun idea, but I guess you're too smart to fall for it." I snipped.

Blaine took a deep breath and put his head in his hands, "Someone's really trying to kill me."

I took deep breath and leaned back, raking my fingers through my hair, "Yeah."

"And my dad knew. You knew." He shook his head still in his hands, "Why didn't anyone tell me?" Blaine's voice seemed worn and overwhelmed.

"Your dad tried to. But then you blew him off and mocked him for suggesting a safety precaution because it was a _psychic's_ suggestion!" _My suggestion._

Blaine turned his head to look out his window.

"You knew..." He muttered remembering that conversation at lunch, "You knew from day one. Before you even met me, you knew who I was."

I nodded realizing what path we were headed down. I pressed the button to make sure the doors were locked.

"So, that's what this whole thing was? This whole- us thing? It wa just so you could kept a closer watch on me? It was just so you could be a better spy for my dad?" He grew more and more angry. I knew he would jump to this conclusion, I knew it.

"No." I said calmly.

"Oh, fuck it, Kurt! The game is over, you don't have to lie to me anymore!" A tear slid down his face, "I don't believe you. Fuck you."

"It wasn't a lie." I said gently. Blaine needed time to be angry. I didn't need to get too hot to trot and defend myself. If Blaine was like me, only one emotion made sense at a time. This was the easiest way he could work through it.

"If it wasn't a lie, then what was it? Huh, Kurt? Are you even 'Kurt'? Or was that a ton of shit too?" He spat, "God, I can't believe I trusted you."

If you've ever wondered, when your heart breaks, it feels like all the blood in your veins dries up and it can't flow or feed into your heart. It's like for a few seconds, you stop living. And if you're the the reason your heart is breaking, you probably deserve it.

I knew it. I knew I shouldn't have set myself up for this. No matter how much you love someone, you can't-

Wait. Love someone. _Love._ I was _in love._

Funny how I never really realized it until that moment. Huh... I was in love. And love was sitting right next to me with tears streaming down his face; perhaps because, in my seat, he sa love fading or he never even saw it at all. Love... What a wonder. This is what it feels like? And when you put the name to it, it feels even better. So this was love. Without thinking, I let out a tiny amused laugh and a smile creeped onto my face.

"What?" Blaine grobbed, "Why are you laughing?"

I looked up at him, unable to contain my smile, "Because I-" I stopped myself, "Because I did know you before I met you, Blaine."

"Yeah, I get that." I snipped.

"Because I didn't lie to you in anyway that wasn't directly linked to your safety." I explained.

"You played me." He corrected. I shook my head.

"What did I make you promise me?" I reminded.

Blaine rolled his eyes adorably, "It doesn't matter, now does it? Apparently promises are just like truth."

"Blaine, what did you promise?" I battered.

"That I wouldn't storm off, which I'm really regret-"

"And?"

"And... that I knew." He uttered.

"You knew what?"

Blaine shut his eyes... whether that because he was trying to recall what he'd promised or because he didn't want to say it I didn't know, "That you didn't want to hurt me."

"Yes-"

"But you did." He shut me off.

"I don't think I did. I think I confused you and I'm trying to fix that now. But everything I felt, Blaine, everything _you_ felt was real. And you know that." I was through with the questions. Blaine had the same answers I did. He just needed to be able to find them himself. Hearts don't lie, they only misconstrued.

"You asked me why I came to Dalton- out of everyone your dad could have sent, why did he send me?" I smiled, "I begged him to let me go."

Blaine perked up and looked at me in confusion.

"Why did you-?"

"Do you believe in love at first sight, Blaine?" I asked quietly.

He waited a moment before answering, "No."

"Neither do I." I smirked, "People tend to see what they want to see instead of what they're forced to. For me... whether you believe me or not, I see things I don't want you. I see things I'm supposed to." I said quietly, "Do you believe in fate, Blaine?"

"No." He swallowed hard.

"Neither do I." I told him, " I believe in purpose. We choose our destiny based on with purpose we follow and we hope for the best." I sucked in one last breath before asking, "Do you believe in love, Blaine?"

This time he answered so quietly, I almost didn't hear him, "Yes."

"You believe love can make us do stupid things. That love can drive us. Love gives us the courage we never thought we had. Love can make someone give up everything just to protect the one person who brought them to life with it? With love?"

Blaine was quiet now, calmly staring at me as if he didn't know the answer.

"Are... are you saying that you..." He swallowed down hard, "Love... _me?"_

I turned to look at him and smiled, "Well, why else would I be here?"

His expression didn't change.

"Blaine, listen to me because this... if anything is the most important answer you need to know. Of all the questions you'll ever ask. Of all the despair, the confusion, the rage, you'll find that all answers to your questions will stem back to love. All that we do, we do out of love. Some fight out of love, some kil out of love, some sacrifice out of love and some just ever so simply love out of love."

"I'm so confused." Blaine shook his head and fell back into his seat.

"Yeah... me too." I agreed, realizing that most of what I had just told him probably just sounded like jabber and garbage. It was time to be straightforward. "To answer all your questions, I'm psychic. I work with your dad. Someone's trying to kill you. I fell in love with you though I probably shouldn't have, I'm your guardian angel so I'll protect you no matter what. You have nothing to worry about. I love you." With that, I was done talking. We needed to get on the road and find somewhere safe to go until I heard back from Roy.

"Can we stop by Sonic?" Blaine asked tiredly as I pulled back onto the road. I shot a questioning glance.

"Emotions make me hungry." He answered. A smile crept back onto my face.

"My treat." I assured him.

* * *

Can I tell you that a little bit of food goes a long way? Nothing makes sense and tensions run high when you're hungry, but Blaine was the most drastic case of this I'd ever met. After just a few fries, Blaine had reformed back into the person I was used to. A couple of french fries, and we go from 'The world is ending and I hate everyone,' to 'It's gonna be okay, but pass the ketchup.'

"So... where are we going?" Blaine asked, taking a bite of his disgusting , what a difference of demeanor a couple hundred calories could make.

"I don't know." I admitted sipping my slushie.

"Wait, what do you mean you don't know?" He teased tiredly, "Aren't you psychic?"

"That's not how it works." I shook my head.

"Why not?" He took another bite.

"Because I'm not that kind of psychic, Blaine." I confessed, "And to be honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. Until your dad picks up his phone, I'm lost."

"Well," Blaine swallowed another bite, "Why don't we go to my family's vacation house?"

"You have a vacation house?" I asked taking a fry.

"Yeah," He nodded, "And it's only a few hours away and we can stay there until the... you know- coast is clear."

"Oh then, we'll go there." I took another fry.

"Sorry about the psychic comment." He apologized.

"What? No, it's fine. I'm sorry. I'm just-"

"Stressed. I know. This must be pretty tough for you and I haven't exactly been making it much easier." He dunked an onion ring into some sauce and handed it to me, "Peace offering?"

I let myself smile and took it.

"Accepted." I tossed it in my mouth.

"... Are we?" He shrugged, "I don't know...still us?"

"You mean together?" I asked. Odd how after you lose so much in such a short amount of time that you lose your fear of confrontation. Blaine nodded.

"Not if you don't want to be." I eased.

"I do. I mean, you're still you're still you, right?" He questioned.

"Always have been." I laughed.

"And I'm still me, so there's no reason we should lose that, right?" He took my hand. I wasn't certain if this whole act was brought on because his life was being threatened or because I said "I love you" or because he just really needed someone to hold him and tell him everything out be okay, but I didn't wonder. I wanted to be his as long as I could and I didn't want to ask why.

"Here," I pulled out a french fry and handed it to him, "Blaine Anderson, will you be my boyfriend?"

Blaine laughed, "If your psychic, don't you know the answer?"

"It doesn't work like that." I said once more, blushing.

"Ah, well. You'll have to give me a manual sometime." He winked, "Let's see and boyfriend and a french fry?" He picked it out of my fingers, "You leave me no choice, Kurt Hummel." He chuckled and popped it into his mouth.

"Glad to hear it," I whispered and squeezed his hand to make sure it was still there.

"But if we're going to be driving cross state on the run from Homicidal Russians and what not, I want command over the radio."

"Yes sir." I complied.

* * *

_I hated this chapter. It didn't turn out at all like I'd hoped. It just- argggh. I'm sorry guys. It's completely OOC and stupid and I'm sorry I wrote this. :P_

_~Holleigh_


	19. Lullaby

"Hey, Blaine?" I looked over to find him passed out in the passengers seat, head lulled over againsts the window. I smiled smally and looked back at the road. The poor kid much have been exhausted. Well, exhausted or not, I still had no clue how he could sleep. Somehow I doubted that Blaine ever had trouble sleeping no matter what the circumstances.

Billy Joel's "Lullaby" began playing on the playlist, perfectly enough. I turned it down soft enough to be a ghost in the background and provide me company.

Its was dark out now. Blaine had been asleep for a while, I suspected. Soon enough, based on the directions he'd put in the GPS, we'd be reaching a safe haven for the night.

I looked over once more to make sure Blaine was still there.

He was.

Keeping my attention on the road of the highway, I began to sing along with Billy.

_"Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on. They never die, that's how you and I will be."_

* * *

"You have reached your destination." Said the GPS condescendingly. I looked out the window and at the magnificent shore house that looked right out over the water. I'd never been to the beach, so you can imagine opening the car door to hear the loud crash of water was a bit overwhelming. The breeze cause my hair and I could taste the salt it carried. I looked up at the stars. More than I'd ever seen, just looming about- looking down on me. It was amazing. Why have a house out here? Why not just stay outside all night and stare at the stars?

It was dark, but looking out at the water was like looking into Blaine's eyes. Nothing felt scary. Nothing felt wrong. Any worry felt like it was being picked at and drifted away with each lapping wave. I'll tell you in that moment, although the world around me was a mess, I couldn't help but feel that I had what I needed to live happily. Blaine and the ocean.

Even though things with Blaine still felt awkward, I felt safe. I wanted him to feel safe too.

I turned back to car and saw that Blaine was still fast in dream. I didn't want to wake him. I was almost afraid of how he'd react. Sleeping, Blaine was silent and unassuming. If I were to wake him, would he still be afraid?

I opened the door and leaned over to softly shake Blaine awake.

"Hey," I called, "I think we're here."

Blaine moaned and groaned then fell back into a slumber. I rolled my eyes and went to the other side of the car. I pulled Blaine's door open and was about to shake him roughly before I saw completely how the moonlight graced over his face. Instead, I ran my hand over his forehead, stroking back his bangs.

"Blaine," I spoke sweetly, "There are evil Russians after us. You have to get up."

"Stop rush-ian me." He leaned into my touch.

"Oh, well if you conscious enough to make crappy puns, you conscious enough to get out of the car." I hugged his torso and pulled him out of his seat and out of the car. I lost my balance and fell backward and Blaine landed on top of me.

"Ugh, you are making this really difficult." I grumbled.

"Sorry." Blaine, now finally awake, apologised.

"Oh, no don't worry my spine broke the fall." Blaine got up and held out his hand, "Jeez if it took that much to wake you up, maybe I'll just have to stand guard all night." I jested. Blaine apparently didn't think it was very funny. The memories that I was his guardian must have been flooding back to him.

"Right, no. I'll be more careful." He mumbled, helping me up.

I stood up and looked back out at the ocean.

"You didn't tell me you had a kingdom by the sea." I acknowledged.

"You never asked." He retorted.

"Do you have a kingdom by the sea?"

"I do have a kingdom by the sea." He nodded, "Come on, let's get inside."

* * *

The Anderson's shore house was just as beautiful as their inland one, but even less lived in if possible. This one had more of an island vacation theme, and instead of 'spiced Pear" it smelled like Coconut Breeze. Yet still there wa no sand and not a thing out of place. It was immaculate.

"Do you have a cleaning lady for down here too?" I snorted.

"No, my mom's paranoid so she makes Eva, our regular cleaning lady, come down here too." He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I looked at the walls that had replicas of the same pictures they had in the other house.

"Well, seeing as it's almost midnight, and no one's been down here in months, we have beef jerky, rice, water and white zinfandel." He announced pulling it all out along with a pot to cook the rice in.

* * *

"So," Blaine sipped his wine, "When did you realize you were... psychic?"

"When I was eight." I answered with a spoon full of rice. We were sitting on the floor by the coffee table.

"What happened? You just went So Raven one day?" He smirked.

I smiled and shook my head, "You want the truth?" I dared.

Blaine paused looking intrigued and then nodded.

I took a swig of the zinfandel, "My mom tried to kill me."

"What?" Blaine shook his head leaning forward.

"My mom. She drowned my in the pool of my old house. Then she hung herself in the shed. The EMTs were able to revive me, but no one at the time knew were my mom was or what had happened. She was in the shed for a few days." I spoke casually, trying not to make Blaine uncomfortable. I tried my best to make it sound less awkward but this was my first time ever tell in anyone the whole story, "And the when I woke up, I just started... seeing things. Nightmares and dayterrors. Horrible things. My dad took me to the doctors. hey thought it was just some kind of brain damage because of how long I'd been deprived of oxygen. But then they started coming true. I never told anyone. But I'd see these horrible things on the news days or weeks after I'd seen them. I could never help feeling that I could have done something about it." I recalled.

"You're serious." Blaine realized. I guess he didn't really believe me until now, "Holy shit."

"When I was 13, I started calling the head of the bureau from various payphones and leaving anonymous tips. The number of fatalities went down, and I was able to sleep again." I picked at my rice, "Your dad figured everything out. Traced the calls and figured out that I was the one calling. He arrested me and held me for questioning." I smiled fondly at the memory.

* * *

_"Why am I here?" I asked looking down at the metal table of the interrogation room. There was a two way mirror on the wall. I was just hoping to God that no one was behind it. There in front of me loomed the ever self-righteous Special Agent Roy Anderson._

_"As far as I see it you're an accessory to several crimes."_

_"You mean like jaywalking?" I played dumb._

_"No," He scoffed, "I mean like murder."_

_"I didn't kill anyone." I argued._

_"Yes, but knowing about it and not reporting it makes you just as much an accessory to the crime." He leaned in._

_"But I did report it!" How many times have we talked on the phone? I've told you everything I know. They patch me straight through to you whenever I call!" I differed, "Why are you hunting me down like a criminal? I'm helping you!"_

_"How do you know about these crimes, Mr. Hummel." He sat down._

_I said nothing._

_"Mr. Hummel-_

_"Kurt."_

_"Kurt, if you don't tell me how you know about these things, by law I'm authorized to assume you as a suspect." One of the only times I had ever seen Roy sincere._

_"You might as well, then. You'll never believe me otherwise." I mumbled miserably._

_"I've been in the field longer than I care to admit. Try me." He dared._

_"Fine." I shrugged. "I'm psychic."_

_Roy looked me up and down, definitely disbelieving me. He probably thought I was just another shitty kid giving him a hard time and making his job hell. After a moment he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a contemplative sigh._

_"Can you prove it?" He asked. I blinked._

_"What?" I hesitated. What did he mean prove it? Wasn't it proof enough that I'd been helping him prevent murders for months?_

_"Can you prove you're psychic?" He clarified._

_"Well, I mean I've been telling you about stuff that hasn't happened yet for months. You checked my record, I'm as clean as Arm and Hammer. I have no connection whatsoever to any of the criminals or victims."_

_"If I were to call your parents right now, would they confirm your claims?" He challenged._

_"Please don't." I plead, "My dad doesn't know about any of this. He and I... we don't talk much."_

_"What about your mom?"_

_"Well, you can call. I don't think she'll pick up. She's been dead for five years." I retorted, "It should be in my file."_

_"Well you're psychic, right? Can't you talk to her?" He picked up my file and opened it._

_"It doesn't work like that. I'm not a medium, I can't talk to dead people. I can only connect with the very last moments of their life. But once they're dead, they're dead." I explained._

_Roy's eyes lifted up after my last sentence. In his irises I saw a twinge of empathy. He must have just read the part about how exactly my mother died. He looked back down at the file and reread it again. I spoke up after a minute._

_"What time is it?" I asked. Roy glanced down at his Rolex._

_"Nearly seven."_

_"May I go? It's getting late and I have to make dinner." I excused._

_Roy said nothing, but looked to the mirror._

_"You can't keep me here. I haven't done anything wrong. You have no evidence proving otherwise either. If anything, I've only aided the authoritative power." I reasoned, trying to remember all the jargon I'd heard during the Law and Order marathons I'd sit through._

_"I suppose you're right. I had better be heading home as well." He mumbled. I stood up, scooting my chair back,"But I'd like to make an agreement."_

_I sat back down._

_"About what?"_

_"Well, kid, I hate to admit it but you're the best source we've had in a long time. Now, I'm gonna give you my card, okay?" He handed me his business card, "Now that has my personal cell phone number on it, but if you hear- or uh... see anything, you call and let me know. Draw a picture if you can. That tends to help a lot." He requested. I stared down at the card._

_Special Agent Roy B. Anderson._

_Homicide Detective_

_481-516-2342_

_"You keep coming through like you have, I think I'll be on my way to believing you." He said, "And maybe if you get your dad on board, you might be able to help me out on a few of the cases. ould you be up for that?"_

_"Would that mean I'd get to miss school?" I asked hopefully, I'd do anything if it meant not having to be around my classmates._

_Roy smirked, "You sound like my son. Tell you what, here's another card. Give it to your dad. But if I were you, I'd try talking to him about this whole thing first."_

_"That won't work." I shook my head, "My dad- he's... we just don't see eye to eye."_

_"Give him a chance." Roy encouraged, "Maybe he'll surprise you."_

_I bit my lip and nodded, looking back down the the card. Roy picked up the file and turned to leave._

_"Mr. Anderson?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Do you know where the nearest bus stop is? I need to get home..." I asked._

_"12th and Farhill. Three blocks down." He pointed._

_"Okay... Um... Also, do you have any tokens? I didn't bring any money." I asked sheepishly._

_"Why don't I just give you a ride?" He chuckled and pulled out his keys._

* * *

"Really?" Blaine asked, having completely abandoned his meal.

"Yeah. He was the one who encouraged me to reconcile with my dad. It was the best decision I ever made. Sometimes he'd just pull me out of school to hang out at the office when he knew I was having a rough time with the other kids in my class." I smiled, "When he first started taking me on cases, he told my dad that he promised he wouldn't let anything happen to me. I figured it might be nice if someone could promise him that about his kid too."

Blaine curled up around the pillow in his lap.

"He still hasn't called back." He whispered. I looked to my phone on the table.

"He will." I assured, "Just give him time. He'll call."

* * *

_Guys. I am SO sorry. College is just more time consuming than I ever expected and I understand if you hate me . But LORD the college. I have to pretty much right a new pay each week, and critique others writing and what not. It's crazy. Anyway, I'm trying to balance my time better and I hope to be updating this closer to a the regular schedule. If all goes as planned it'll be done be the time the new season airs. (that probably wont happen...) But till then, please review? I missed you guys.  
~Holleigh_


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